


like legends

by obscvritas (athdhea)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, canon compliant to a point but otherwise, influences from Final Fantasy XIII: Versus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:32:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9393785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athdhea/pseuds/obscvritas
Summary: Her job is not one for which she receives credit, and that's how Aera Primula prefers it. She does her work quietly, for duty and for honour. And it's duty and honour which binds her to the one last task given to her by her king, before the destruction of her home. Guarding a relic that has been erased from memory and lore, accompanied by a fallen Glaive it's roused from death, Aera embarks down a dangerous road to alter fate. It's no small feat, and Aera may have to bear the burden of her legacy sooner than she'd hoped.





	1. 01

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first fic in a loooonnnggg time so (hence my apparent inability to write a summary) yep.
> 
> Though the story will be told in Aera's perspective (for whom, by the way, I've casted Chloe Bennet...because of my unrepentant love for her), but I didn't want the reader to know everything that Aera knows, right off the bat. Hence the mystery surrounding her, as well as the circumstances of her encounter with Nyx.
> 
> I like stringing my readers along ;)  
> so, enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Glaive wakens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter underwent some minor edits November 15, 2017 (as though to celebrate the release of FFXV Comrades, right? :P )
> 
> Fic trailer: https://youtu.be/rViPlqA7Uc4

Broken. It’s a cliched descriptor, so plain in meaning—but so apt to describe what has become of this city. Insomnia had been so vibrant, with its bright lights and deep shadows, with its diversity of people and life.

Now, it’s awash in grey.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, soldier.” Her companion’s voice pulls her gaze away from the narrow window, and she lets the curtain fall back into place. Aera’s gaze drifts almost lazily to Rangi, whose expression is the very picture of tranquility as he helps their previously unconscious patient sit up from the bed.

“...what…?” The man is sluggish; brows draw together, eyes looking slightly clouded still with the remnants of sleep. “Am I still...in Insomnia?” Aera watches him scan the modest apartment, drowsiness very quickly chased away by brevity.

Rangi nods, grief seeping into his expression for only a brief moment. “Yes. What’s left of it. But—don’t worry.” He gestures to the locked door, barricaded by furniture. “It’s safe...relatively speaking.”

From the opposite side of the bachelor apartment, the fourth inhabitant, Lyra, shifts from the couch. Her wide eyes makes her look a little uncertain, but she only hesitates for a moment before moving to grab a water bottle for the stranger.

“It won’t stay that way for much longer.” Though Aera’s voice is soft, it seems to cut through the quiet of the small apartment as though she’d toppled the entire shelf on which she’s perched. The stranger looks over at her, as though he hadn’t noticed her there. Aera holds his gaze only for a moment before nodding to the window beside her.

Rangi’s basement apartment doesn’t leave much room for views outside; this narrow window only affords them a small glimpse of the ground above the apartment, and one of the streets beyond. But it’s enough. “Magitek troopers; two of them. It looks like they’re patrolling a set route.”

Lyra shakes her head. “But the king is dead and they took the Crystal; Niflheim has what it wants. Why are its troops still here?”

The question seems to cause the Glaive to deflate a little, but Aera ignores him as she jumps off the top of Rangi’s built-in shelving. Her landing is near silent, and she pauses only to straighten her shirt.

“Tying up  _ loose ends _ , probably.” It’s said in a neutral tone, but Aera can hardly contain the anger that thrums beneath her skin. This was more than just about the Crystal; the attack was borne of a desire to destroy. 

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Each syllable is punctuated by bitterness, and considering the state in which Aera found the Glaive—and under the assumption that it was the Empire who’d put him in such a state—no one can blame him. “So...you guys can’t leave?” Brows dip again, gaze lowering into a furtive look.

Teeth worrying into her lip, Lyra passes Aera another uncertain glance before answering. “Damage from the attack made most of the buildings unstable.” A short pause, barely enough to garner attention from the Glaive, but long enough that Aera notices. Her breath catches in her throat, eyes intent on the teenager until Lyra seems to regain her composure. “Between that, the panic,  _ and _ Imperial forces filling the streets, maybe staying here was the safest thing to do.”

“And we couldn’t just leave you behind,” Rangi adds in a voice he means to be reassuring, although the soldier doesn’t look terribly convinced. “We’d be no better than the Empire...or the looters.” His jaw tightens, punctuating the bruise that’s not yet healed. He’s made these allusions before, though neither Aera nor Lyra asked him about it. While they’re not friends—only survivors bound together by a mutual need for safety in numbers and companionship—they at least had enough tact to let the man tend to his wounds in peace.

“In any case,” Aera’s voice seems to dim the tension in Rangi’s body language, “we should start preparing for an actual departure.”

“He just woke up from a three-day coma, you can’t expect him to be up and running just yet.” There’s no hostility in Rangi’s voice, though his expression is tentative and uncertain. The three of them have established some level of trust in the last few days; it’s difficult not to, having gone through what they had together. Yet Aera’s not oblivious to the apparent unease she sometimes incites in Rangi. While his quiet is borne of his tranquil nature, Aera’s quiet is guarded, a mask that seems to veil her intentions. She’s saved their lives enough times, kept them alive for this long—they trust her enough for that, and that’s all Aera needs, if she hopes to keep them alive indefinitely.

“Actually, as far as I can tell, he’s fine.” The surprise is evident in Lyra’s voice, through her soft tone and tentative posture. They’d left Lyra to examine the unconscious Kingsglaive—though the youngest out of all of them, Lyra appeared the most apt to do so. And aside from some relatively minor, superficial wounds, she’d not found any reason for his unconscious state.

The knowledge of that reason is something Aera intends to keep to herself.

“I feel fine,” the soldier himself admits, clearly to Rangi’s mild chagrin.

“He’ll have the time to get himself up to speed,” Aera continues, tone sounding as though she’s simply waving off the matter. “It could be more difficult to leave now that there’s fewer people to keep imperial attention off of us.” Lyra and Rangi might be reluctant to admit that, but Aera has no intentions of maintaining any illusion of safety.

Looters and those who revel in lawlessness attempted to seize the city following the night of the siege, but it was clear by that evening that the city still does not belong to them. It seems that only the mechanical march of Magitek troopers break the silence of Insomnia now. “We’ll also want to make sure we’re prepared once we make it outside of the city.”

_ If _ they make it outside of the city. Rangi may be a formidable foe when spurred, but he’s never been trained in combat. And Lyra’s affinity is for the sciences, for learning and knowledge—not war. Even if the Glaive is to aid them, could they so easily make it out of Insomnia in one piece?

“Aera’s right. We’ll need provisions for both the journey out of the city, and beyond that. Not to mention weapons.” Lyra wrings her hands as she speaks, eyes jumping between all of them in apprehension. The girl is clever, and these last few nights have made her much wiser beyond her years—but it’s clear she’s used to deferring to others, even when she’s right.

He looks reluctant, but Rangi nods, shoulders heaving with an exhaustive sigh.

“Weapons...I might be able to find you some.” The Glaive shifts, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He takes a moment to stretch, testing the stability of his limbs before he stands. “It’s the least I can do.”

Aera watches him, appraising his earnest expression as though searching for lies. She meets his gaze when he turns to her, and finds that—unless he is more skilled in the art of lying than she is—his offer to help is genuine. Though her expression remains guarded, Aera nods. “You know where the Kingsglaive armoury is.”

“Yeah, but it won’t be easy getting in. It’s close to the Citadel, and—”

“Any higher ranking imperial officials left in Insomnia have likely gathered there. Which means they’ll be surrounded by Magitek guards.”

She catches Rangi’s deep frown in the periphery of her vision. “It’s too dangerous. The weapons would only be a precaution; it’s not enough to risk your life over.” Shaking his head, Rangi crosses his arms over his chest. “We haven’t needed any weapons yet.”

_ Yet _ is the key word. They might have been able to make their way back to Rangi’s apartment with little trouble, but that was at the peak of chaos. The streets are likely near empty now, and anyone bold enough to travel through them would be in perfect view of any Magitek patrols. “I know you’re not naive enough to believe we won’t run into any trouble, Rangi.”

Aera takes quiet note of the Glaive’s expression as he watches their exchange, the way he’s glancing between the both of them with a look of contemplation on his face. He has questions—and so does Aera.

As far as she knows, the Kingsglaive had been dispatched to rescue Lady Lunafreya from an Imperial vessel; it had, of course, been a means to get the king’s superpowered army out of Insomnia. Which, of course, begs the question of why  _ this _ soldier remained in the city. And why he was brought back from the beyond.

“I’m not. But I stand by what I said; it’s not worth risking anyone’s life.”

Her expression softens a little, ears catching on the quiet resignation in Rangi’s voice and the way his brows twist together into a look of concern. She remembers the look of mourning with which he gazed upon the ruins of the city, and though he hasn’t spoken of any of his family or friends, Aera can aptly assume he has many, and he still worries for them.

“He’s not going alone. And I’ve gotten myself through a lot worse.” Her voice drops to a softer tone, hand resting on Rangi’s arm as though to reassure him. “I can’t leave you or Lyra defenseless if things go awry—which they likely will.”

Still, Rangi shakes his head. “We might find something along the way. And besides, I don’t even know how to wield any weapons, Aera. I’m more likely to hurt myself than to do any good.”

Her attention jumps to the Glaive. “Are there trainee weapons, too? Something easier to handle?”

The man hesitates, his gaze shifting between her and Rangi as though trying to decide whose side to take. His nod is slow and a little reluctant. “The wooden weapons we use to train with aren’t going to do much. There are some batons though.”

Aera’s nod is much more resolute. “Good. That should suffice.” She shoots Rangi a pointed look before he could protest, but frowns when she notices Lyra’s contemplative silence. Her head cants as she looks at the younger girl, silently asking.

The response she receives is only a small nod. “A baton would be good. As long as I can swing it like a baseball bat.”

“How mean’s your swing?” The corners of her lips quirk into some semblance of a smile, widening when Lyra seems to straighten with pride.

“Meanest on my team.” They both skillfully sidestep the bitter nostalgia associated with those memories. There hasn’t yet been time to truly mourn, and there won’t be time yet, until they make it out of Insomnia. “The MTs are mostly machinery. Sturdy machinery, but a hard enough swing at the legs should incapacitate them.”

Rangi looks almost startled at Lyra’s newfound confidence, and when he looks at Aera, it’s almost accusing. In spite of the sobriety of the moment, Aera replies with a crooked smile; if he thinks she’s a bad influence now, wait ‘til the fight begins. “If it gets too bad, you hightail out of there, okay? Forget the weapons.”

“It won’t, but if it does, we will. Alright?” It seems to placate Rangi to hear that, and satisfied, she turns to the Glaive. “When will you be up and running?”

Brows raised, the soldier tests his limbs, hopping on the spot and trying his balance. “Right now, apparently.” The surprise is evident in both voice and expression, accompanied by wonder and confusion. The severity of his  _ condition _ must not have been lost on the soldier.

“We’ll head out after sundown, then. There’ll be better cover.” She’s been able to confirm that Magitek soldiers’ sight only marginally enhanced when compared to a normal human’s, though they do appear to be equipped with more advanced auditory receptors. In any case, Aera feels much more comfortable under the cover of the night, where she and the Glaive, clothed in black, could at least hide in the shadows.

“Sounds good.” Though his tone is casual, there’s no mistaking the resolve nor the briskness. He’s accepting a mission, and it’s as though Aera is his commander. The thought worries her; she much prefers working alone—or at most, with a partner. But a subordinate is perhaps a little too much responsibility.

“And we’re going to leave the city tomorrow?” Lyra’s stood from the couch, leaning instead against the wall beside the shelving with her arms crossed. She has her appraising stare fixed on the Glaive, likely trying to determine if he’s really fit to head towards the Citadel tonight.

“If we’re ready to.” Aera nods to the kitchen, where containers of non-perishable foods have been stacked neatly on the counter. “Can you ration the food, figure out how much we have and how much we’ll need?”

The teenager nods. “I’ll take stock of medical supplies, too.”

“I’m going to see if there’s any way to contact some of my friends outside of the city. Maybe they can pick us up somewhere.” It’s the first mention that Rangi’s made of any of his friends, and Aera can’t help but feel some relief that at least some of his loved ones might have escaped the Empire’s wrath.

She nods, before motioning to the Glaive. “I’ll need you to give me the route and the layout of the armory and the nearby area. I don’t intend to go in there blind.”

The stranger nods, looking slightly impressed if not reluctant to be leading whom he likely assumes is a civilian into danger. The city of Insomnia hasn’t faced much adversity for many years, so Aera supposes their efficiency might come as a bit of a surprise. But she’s seen what ordinary people can be capable of when under duress; Aera’s only glad that both Lyra and Rangi are the sort to deal with the crisis first, and the emotional fallout later.

Both Rangi and Lyra separate to tend to their tasks, and Aera motions towards the small dining table. The wooden surface is veiled by a myriad of rough sketches; maps drawn from memory of potential routes outside of the city. The Glaive follows, exhaling with a low whistle at the organized chaos on paper. 

Aera seats herself, motioning to the chair across from her. “Let’s hope your…episode hasn’t affected your memory. I’m going to need as much detail as you can provide.” 

“I’ll do my best.” He flashes her a cocky smile, one that’s marred by the ever-present unease that accompanies the destruction of one’s home. 

Deft fingers close around the pencil, its tip hovering over a blank sheet of paper when Aera pauses. “We never got to introduce ourselves.” Go figure that something so mundane would be lost in the urgency of their situation, and Aera can’t ignore the little bitter twist in her gut. It’s a reminder that nothing will ever be the same again.

“That’s Rangi,” she starts, with a nod in the aforementioned man’s direction. “This is his apartment. And that’s Lyra; she’s the one who noticed you were still breathing.” Or at least, she was the one who brought it to Rangi’s attention—because the Glaive  _ wasn’t _ breathing when Aera first noticed him. “I’m Aera.”

The Glaive responds with a polite nod. “Nyx. Nyx Ulric.”

  
  
  
  
  



	2. 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyx takes Aera to the Kingsglaive armoury under the cover of night. Aera creates a little mischief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who've read and enjoyed this fic so far c:
> 
> A little forewarning for a description of a dead body. Nothing too graphic, but it may be upsetting. It happens in the paragraph after “Used to eat here all the time.” in case anyone wants to skip it.
> 
> This chapter underwent some minor edits November 15, 2017 (as though to celebrate the release of FFXV Comrades, right? :P )

The silence is broken only by the mechanical marching of the Magitek patrols and wind through empty streets. The brilliant glow of the sunset has faded since they’d left Rangi’s apartment, and they’re guided only by the light of the stars—so much brighter now without Insomnia’s lights to drown them. 

Perhaps their footing would be more certain if either of them had brought a flashlight, but that would have defeated the purpose of going at night. In any case, Aera feels safer in the dark—and she’d feel safer on the rooftops, too, if only she didn’t think the Glaive might lose his footing and fall to his death.

“Is there even anyone else left in Insomnia?” His voice is hushed, and he speaks only when the sounds of the patrols seem far enough away. Aera expects no less from a Glaive, yet she can’t deny her relief that her companion is competent.

Aera glances at him, pausing for a moment to tie off the end of her braid. “Some were able to escape.” She’s seen the surge of people on the bridge the morning following the attack, before Niflheim began its patrols and blockages around the city. Yet, the crowd was small considering Insomnia’s population, and the numbers of those who perished in the attack seems unfathomable.

Those who’ve survived cannot have fared much better. Aera’s seen them, peering through covered windows, hurrying out of the streets, mourning for the people they’ve lost, sobbing over immobile bodies. It’s impossible to know how many people remain in Insomnia, and unsettling to think of what may happen to them. “No one wants to be outside.” 

And yet—four walls and a locked door provide only an illusion of safety. 

_ You can’t save everyone _ . 

“Can’t blame ‘em.” A subtle nod to their right alerts Aera of an approaching MT, one that doesn’t appear to have spotted them yet. She feels Nyx shift, and glances down to see the dagger in his hand and his shoulders squared in preparation for combat.

The tips of her fingers lightly skim the sleeve on his forearm; a silent command to stand down. The Glaive stills, looking at her almost impatiently. “Where there’s one, there’ll be more,” Aera whispers, and redirects his attention to the alley behind them. “There’s a way around.” She doesn’t wait for Nyx to agree before she changes route, backing into the alley.

It’s a maze of shuttered store fronts and abandoned patios, where the air was once filled with the smells of greasy deep-fry and overflowing beers. Aera doesn’t turn when she hears the Glaive catch up to her, focusing instead on her mental map of the paths ahead. It’s a detour, but it’s one that provides more routes for which to escape the attention of any patrols.

“Used to eat here all the time.” The Glaive’s voice surprises her, and Aera glances at him out of the corner of her eyes. Even with his face half cast in shadows, she can see the grief as he scans the darkened buildings. 

Surely, he must have known he’d perish with this city. Aera had the misfortune of seeing the state of his body before whatever had changed, changed. Blackened skin stark against the bloodless pallor of his gaunt face, half of his body lost to ashes, scattered over the ruins of Insomnia. All miraculously repaired in the blink of an eye.

Aera fights the shiver that trembles through her spine, maintaining a languid smile as though her thoughts haven’t fallen to such a dark place.

“They had the cheapest kebabs I could find anywhere in Insomnia. Not the best but—you get what you pay for.” The statement draws a look of surprise from her companion, and he responds with a quiet chuckle.

“You don’t seem like a back-alley kebab kinda girl.” The teasing in his voice does little to veil the bereavement, but Aera doesn’t try to ruin the moment.

Her hand glides along the brick wall beside her as she leads the Glaive towards their destination. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” 

There’s a quick pause as the steady rhythm of a Magitek trooper’s patrol approaches, but it passes without faltering, and they both continue down the back street. “That jacket looks pretty expensive.”

He’s not wrong. The leather jacket to which he’s referring cost a pretty penny—though it wasn’t Aera who’d commissioned it. In spite of its thinness, it’s perfectly insulated against the cold, and made of much tougher material than its high-street fashion counterparts—tough enough to have protected Aera from the wanting claws of the beasts outside the city. Not every girl hopes to receive incognito tactical gear for her birthday, but Aera’s not complaining.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy good food.” She meets his smirk with a small smile of her own, single brow raised as though daring him to state otherwise. He doesn’t, responding instead with a low chuckle.

They emerge from the darkened alley, pausing only to ensure that the street is empty. Rubble has blocked off half the road, and Aera doesn’t try to peer into the half-crushed car beneath the debris. It’s a little difficult to say anything light now, especially when the memory of Nyx’s body in the ruins starts merging with the image of whomever was likely crushed in that car.

As they draw closer to the city’s heart, Aera’s found to be proven right. Where the sound of a patrol was an occasional, passing thing, it’s now a constant whir. The Magitek infantry march in perfect unison, the sounds of their workings a steady rhythm that would ward off any trespasser.

Aera is no stranger to the Citadel’s layout, privy even to its secret passages; but the Citadel isn’t their destination. This time, she’s the one who’s following, trailing beside the Glaive along the last street to remain free from the Magitek patrols, her mind tracking their location in the map she’s memorized. They pause at each intersection, and she can see the mounting frustration on Nyx’s features when each street they approach appears to be dominated by at least two MTs.

“Nyx.” He stops instantaneously, turning around to look at Aera with a raised brow. “We’re not going to get through the streets without alerting every MT in a two mile radius.” 

It’s not a fact either of them can ignore, and Aera wonders if the Glaive is starting to believe this endeavour is futile. His shoulders heave with a stifled sigh. “Are we turning back, then?”

Aera scoffs. “No. We’re going to alert every MT in a two mile radius.”

There’s a moment of confused silence, before the meaning of her suggestion dawns on the Glaive. It’s perhaps the first genuine smile she’s seen from him, even if it’s one of mischief. “What do you have in mind?”

“A short detour to the nearest power station.” Her mental map places the power station in the opposite direction of their destination, which should draw most of the patrols away from where they need to be. “The generators are already compromised, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to overload them.” Fingers scrabble for a large enough piece of debris, and Aera tests its weight for a moment before sidling up to the corner of the building beside her. 

She spots two Magitek assassins, their paths alternating down the same street. Eyes narrow at an aluminum trash can that’s been toppled in a side street, located diagonally from where Aera stands. The distance between her mark and the street she intends to take isn’t much—“we’ve got to move fast. You ready?” She catches his nod out of the corner of her eyes, and so she takes aim.

The piece of cement collides with the trash can as she’d intended, and she waits with bated breath until both of the MTs alter their paths to investigate. Aera takes off the moment their backs are turned, keeping low and scrambling across the street, stopping only when she’s within shadows once more. A moment later, Nyx joins her, his expression carrying the thrill-wrought grin of an adrenaline junkie. 

They move away from the Citadel, and though the concentration of MTs have decreased, both of them maintain their guard. The power station is situated across from a number of older buildings, surrounded by a flimsy wire fence. Every once in a while, the street is illuminated by a bright blue spark; proof that indeed, the generators are on their last leg.

Aera scales the fence easily, not waiting for Nyx before she continues to search for exposed wiring. A crackle and sizzle leads her to a grouping of electrical transformers, the metal casing in most of them dented. One is missing the covering on its panel, and sparks fly from the wiring within. 

“...Do you know what you’re doing?” The Glaive’s voice seems to echo across the empty grounds, but there are no imperial patrols to hear him. 

Aera casts a contemplative glance in his direction, then at the exposed panel. Lips pursed, brows drawn together, she’s trying to go as far back as her school days to recall any information that might be useful. Drawing a blank, Aera realizes she’ll just have to hope for the best.

“I think so?” She doesn’t comment on the dubious expression on Nyx’s face. 

Narrowed eyes scan the ground in front of her, and ignoring the strange look her companion gives her, she scoops up some dried leaves. Masking her trepidation with a steady stride, Aera moves towards the transformer, pausing only for a brief moment before throwing the leaves into the panel.

She steps back, returning to her position beside Nyx. His lips part in question, but her eyes remain on the panel, watching the sparks fly again. It takes another few seconds before they catch on the dried leaves, and she smells the burning foliage before she sees the smoke and fire.

It catches quickly, the crackling of the electricity growing more fervent as the flames grow. There’s an insistent hum in the air, like millions of cicadas descending at once. “Time to go.” Before Nyx can react, she’s got her fingers around his wrist, pulling him away from the building until they’re both running towards the fence. They’ve barely made it past the station threshold when the ground trembles and a roar tears into the night. 

Aera doesn’t have to turn around to know that she’s successfully overloaded the first transformer. More will follow, judging from the flashes of stark white light from behind them. Aera skids to a stop as she reaches one of the buildings, taking only a brief moment to catch her breath. The fire continues, as do the explosions, and already, she can hear the patrols gather at the source of the chaos.

“I really hope you’re okay with heights.” Aera briefly glances at her companion before motioning towards the iron escape ladder to their right. With the majority of the Magitek forces moving their way, there won’t be much of a safe route for them on the streets.

Nyx gives her a resolute nod. He takes only another second to catch his breath before he launches himself up the ladder, deftly climbing to the roof. Aera follows, fingers tightening around the rungs of the ladder as another explosion causes the iron platform to shudder.

From the roof, Nyx extends a hand, and though Aera certainly doesn’t need it, she accepts the gesture and closes her hand over his. He practically hauls her up the rest of the way, as though she weighs little more than a child. Again, Aera should expect no less from a Glaive—even one who was dead only hours ago.

He’s glancing over her shoulder, a low whistle escaping his lips as he surveys the damage. The rooftops are illuminated with the flickering glow of flames and sparks; light that will, hopefully, last long enough for them both to make it to the armoury safely. Nyx’s gaze meets hers, and he nods before taking off in the direction of the armoury, glancing backwards only once to ensure she’s keeping pace.

And for her part, Aera keeps up without trouble, vaulting over the banister and revelling in the air beneath her as she crosses the distance between this building and the next. She can see the MTs below, weapons readied as they hurry towards the power station, but none of them notice the two figures leaping across rooftops only a few feet above them. The exhilaration elicits a grin, one matched by the one on her companion’s lips.

It’s a much faster means of arriving at their destination, and they pause only to ensure that the street below is empty. Before he descends, Nyx fixes her with an appraising look, corners of his lips quirked as though impressed. “You do a lot of gymnastics in your spare time, Aera?”

“Something like that.” The look with which he appraises her resembles that of a mathematician in front of a challenging equation. Yet, Aera’s content to leave him guessing, one corner of her lips curving up into a coy smile. She doesn’t miss the way his brows remain slightly furrowed whenever he glances her way, the proverbial gears continuously turning throughout the trek.

Where the night was marked before with the mechanical whirs of the Magitek troops, Aera finds the area almost perfectly silent, with the rumbles of the explosions sounding muted and distant. The building they’re approaching is old, with a grand stone facade and an ornate entrance. It pales in comparison to the Citadel, and to the Crownsguard’s own headquarters, but it’s beautiful nonetheless. If only it isn’t so pockmarked with damage from the invasion.

The halls within are empty as well, though Aera takes care to silence her footfalls. She’s only been in the Kingsglaive headquarters once before, and with so little light filtering through the windows, her only sense of direction is completely reliant on Nyx. He seems to—for better or worse—realize this, and sticks close, glancing at her every once in a while to ensure that she’s still there.

The corridor opens to a large courtyard to their right, and Nyx’s pace falters. His gaze shifts to the courtyard, somber expression punctuated by the shadows the moonlight casts across his face. The surrounding walls are marred by scorch marks and nicks, though they don’t appear to have been from the invasion. This must have been where the Glaives trained.

Aera might only imagine what’s become of his Glaive comrades, but it’s clear the loss weighs heavily on the soldier.

“C’mon.” Her voice is soft, and her gesture is small; a light touch on his forearm. Without looking at her, he nods, and they continue onwards. About three turns and four doors later, they arrive.

The room is dark, but she can see the outlines of a handful of weapons against the shadows. Nyx enters first, and Aera follows, careful not to stumble into anything sharp. He seems to know exactly where to go, and Aera’s content to stand in the room’s centre, trying to differentiate the weapons in the dark.

“The Glaives were deployed just before the invasion,” he explains, and Aera can hear the dull thunk of wood clashing against metal. “So there’s not much left. The batons are here, though.” He hands them to her, and she dutifully shoves them into the backpack she’s brought.

Nyx busies himself with a rack built into one wall, his hands gliding along the handful of stored weapons until they find what he’s looking for. “I guess these will do,” the Glaive murmurs as he straps the holsters to his uniform. He returns to scanning the rack for a moment before Aera sees him reaching for something else.

Brows raise in surprise when he turns to hand them to her. Aera’s fingers close around sturdy leather holsters, and skirt over the curved dagger handles. Head cants, and though she’s sure Nyx can’t see her look of surprise, she can certainly imagine the look on his face. “Something tells me you’re a little past  _ trainee  _ weapons.”

He’s perceptive, she’ll give him that. 

“Thank you.” Though the weapons are unfamiliar, their weight as she pulls the straps around her hips certainly are. 

The Glaive returns to her side and Aera can imagine the appraising look on his features as he shifts his gaze in her direction. “You up for another stop before we head back?” She can only guess the reason behind the hesitation underlying those words, and it seems she paused for just a moment too long. “It’s fine, we can head back. The others are probably worried.”

There’s something dejected about the way he shrugs it off, which only continues to pique her curiosity. “They’ll be fine. The night’s still young.” It occurs to her how dangerous it might be to be more or less blindly following a stranger—but Aera’s no stranger to dangerous situations. 

And if she can’t even defend herself against a single Glaive, how might she even dream of achieving the task that’s been given to her?

  
  
  



	3. 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group leave for Insomnia's underground. Being mysterious breeds distrust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter underwent some minor edits November 15, 2017 (as though to celebrate the release of FFXV Comrades, right? :P )

Though many of the MT patrols have returned to their previous routes, the journey away from Kingsglaive HQ feels a lot more assured now that they’re both properly armed. The fire at the power station continues to burn, so they keep to the rooftops, returning to the streets only when the light of the flames is no longer enough to illuminate their path.

Insomnia is vast, and though Aera had grown up in the Crown City, she’s yet to learn every single street. So while she’s forming as detailed of a mental map as she can, Aera finds herself following Nyx into unfamiliar neighbourhoods. Naturally, her guard rises—and it certainly doesn’t help that the Glaive has been keeping more to himself than before.

Their pace slows as they approach a modest street of rowhouses. One portion has been destroyed by a fire, and fresh graffiti marks the facade of a couple of the homes. The windows are all darkened, and the only sounds Aera can hear are hers and Nyx’s footsteps.

A hand continues to hover over one of the daggers she’d received from Nyx, but she’s compliantly trailing just behind him as he descends a couple of steps into one of the lower apartments. She watches him pull a sparse set of keys from an inner pocket in his uniform to unlock the apartment door.

Wordlessly, he enters, and Aera pauses only for a moment before she follows.

It’s a small home, the space feeling even more confined than Rangi’s modest apartment. The furniture is mismatched, and the rest of the apartment is not without its own personality. There are some trinkets occupying the shelves, and books that look well-worn and likely filled with dog-eared pages. Her gaze drops to the framed photograph sitting on the table beside the armchair, and even in the dimness she can recognize Nyx in the photo. There’s another man in the photo beside him, and a woman; they’re all smiling.

Her attention shifts to Nyx, who’s hovering over his desk by the opposite wall. Brows knot together as Aera scans over the pages that dominate that wall; newspaper clippings and photographs pinned to the plaster almost haphazardly. From her position, Aera can only read the bolded headlines: “The Attack on Galahd”.

Pretty easy to put two and two together.

Nyx doesn’t take much, removing only a single photograph from the wall and tucking it into his Kingsglaive jacket before turning to Aera. His eyes fall to the photograph behind her, the one with him and whom Aera assumes are two of his friends. Wordlessly, she steps away, giving him space to retrieve the photo from the frame.

For a moment, Aera’s reminded of her parents’ estate, of the way she wandered through the rooms like a spectre for days. And Aera remembers how difficult it had been to mourn on her own, with her only true friend Gods know where, tending to his own duties.

She casts a furtive glance at the Glaive, taking note of his stony expression, the way his jaw is tightened and his shoulders tensed. His hands shake as he slips the photo into his pocket, but his stature is all business when he turns to face her again.

Neither of them say anything as they leave. Nyx doesn’t bother locking the door, and walks ahead without glancing back. Maintaining a respectful distance between them, Aera follows, keeping an eye on the Glaive’s posture as they take to the darkened streets once more.

Nyx had been right to say that Rangi and Lyra would be worried. Lyra, who’s been amazingly composed in spite of the absolute destruction of her home, almost flings herself at Aera the moment she walks through the door.

“Lyra... Can’t. Breathe.” The teenager loosens her hold on Aera, stepping back and looking a smidge embarrassed.

“Sorry—I just—the explosion. And—” Her shoulders heave as she draws in a deep breath, and Lyra takes another second to regain her composure before speaking. “I was worried about what that explosion meant.”

“And why it took you guys so long.” Rangi steps away from the kitchen counter, his exasperation evident even though Aera can’t make out his features in the darkness.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Aera can see Nyx falter, the movement missed by both Lyra and Rangi, whose attention are pinned only on her. “We had to create a diversion. It took a bit of work,” she answers simply, skillfully sidestepping any mention of their detour.

Rangi’s shaking his head as he holds out a hand to relieve Aera of her backpack, but his relief is evident. She places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and feels his sigh through her palm. “You guys don’t need to worry about me,” she reminds them, but Aera can see Lyra shaking her head as well.

“It’s not like there’s anyone else to worry about.” It’s said in a plain voice, but Aera can read the bitterness behind those words. Rangi pauses in the middle of pulling the batons out of her backpack, and she can feel his gaze shifting between her and Lyra before he sets the bag down.

“Lyra…” But he struggles to find the right words to say, and Aera can’t blame him. 

They’ve all been doing a decent job of internalizing their pain, always circling the subject of loss without ever broaching it. It’s been heartbreaking to watch someone so young tuck away all her emotions like that, and even more so to see that carefully arranged composure start to crack. 

To her surprise, it’s Nyx who breaks the tension. “We should probably all get some rest. Big day tomorrow, right?”

A quick glance at the clock in the kitchen confirms that it’s already past midnight. The three of them have already established that the ideal time to attempt an escape would be early dawn, which means an even earlier start. “Yeah, it’s jammy time.” Aera gives Lyra a teasing nudge on her shoulder, and though there’s still an air of solemnity hovering over the girl like a dark cloud, Lyra nods.

Rangi inspects each door and window, ensuring that they’re properly locked and the curtains fully drawn. Lyra heads into the bathroom to change into her pyjamas—a small semblance of normality for which no one blames the teenager for clinging onto. Never mind the fact that the pyjamas she wears are something Aera’s simply lifted from an abandoned store the night after the attack.

“Uh, the girls usually get the bed.” Rangi has his hand behind his neck, looking a little uncertain as he looks from Aera to Nyx. “But you can take the couch.”

The Glaive pauses in the middle of removing his jacket, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I think I’ve had more than enough sleep.” Draping the jacket and his armor over the back of a dining chair, Nyx motions to the couch. “You take it. I’ll keep guard.”

When Rangi looks ready to argue, Aera interrupts. “Just take the couch, Rangi.” Though the words are clipped and brisk, her voice lacks bite. She hears him sigh, but Rangi throws his hands up as if in surrender, and drops onto the couch.

Aera throws her own jacket over the bed’s footboard, and places the holstered daggers onto the bedside table by her head. “My watch’s alarm is set for two hours before dawn,” she tells them as she kicks off her boots. “We’ll go over the plan, and try to leave around sunrise.” No one protests the early start.

She waits until Lyra’s emerged from the bathroom before climbing onto the bed. Her eyes remain on the ceiling long after the teenager’s breathing has calmed, mentally running through the route again. This wouldn’t be the first time Aera’s had to make a covert escape—but it’s the first she’d had to do it with three others, two of whom are non-combatants. Fingers close anxiously around the blanket, and she shuts her eyes in an attempt to calm her nerves.

* * *

When Aera wakes, she’s none too surprised to see that the Glaive is still awake. Though it could simply be his training that enforces him to take “guard duty” seriously, she has to wonder if Nyx could sleep even if he’d attempted to. After all, it can’t be easy waking to a world that’s been turned on its head. 

She’s careful not to wake the Lyra as she leaves the bed, silently trodding over into the bathroom to wash her face. The plumbing stopped working the day after the attack, but Rangi had the foresight to fill his tub with water before then. The water is cold as she splashes it against her face, but it washes away the sleep well enough.

Nyx is sitting by the dining table, squinting at her maps. He glances up at her, nods in greeting, but resumes his quiet appraisal of the pages. More than just street maps, these sketches detail the underground passages—both the clandestine, and the ones borne of Insomnia’s metro and sewer system. As far as Aera can confirm, they should be mostly accurate, drawn from her memory of other maps, and from her own ventures into the underground.

Quietly crossing the living room, Aera pauses for a moment by the kitchen to take count of the supplies they’ve gathered. Rangi owned some camping gear, but it was through scavenging that they were able to find the other necessary survival equipment. One of his hiking bags appears to be filled with their rationed food, sitting beside a smaller one that Aera assumes is filled with extra clothing and some blankets.

“You made all of these?” Nyx keeps his voice low, a crease between his brow as he looks up at her.

“I thought they might come in handy.” Aera’s already got a route in mind, but there’s no guarantee that they won’t run into any issues. It was impossible to verify which passage remained intact after the siege, or who else they may meet while underground. The maps, sketched onto whatever blank sheets of paper Rangi happened to have around his home, serve only as a brain dump, so Aera may at least visualize her plan.

The Glaive looks at her with something of a guarded expression “Niflheim’s attack...that was only a few days  ago, right?” She nods, head canting as she awaits his question. “How long have you been planning this escape?”

“For a few days,” she answers, unabashedly meeting his gaze. The only advantage she has over anyone else left in the ruins of Insomnia is that she’s already had the resources. “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to ask me, Nyx?”

He glances over at Rangi’s still slumbering form, then Lyra, and the expression with which he regards Aera is perhaps more severe than she’s seen on him yet. “You knew about the attack before everyone else did, didn’t you?”

And just as before, Aera meets his gaze with no trouble. “No—not as a certain fact. I had my suspicions, though.” After all, distrust is in her nature, and it seems neither she nor King Regis had been naive enough to believe the Empire’s  _ good will _ .

The answer doesn’t quite seem to placate the Glaive, but he remains silent, returning his attention to the maps as Rangi stirs from the couch. Aera gives the man a wave as he stands, before leaving the dining table to wake Lyra. Dawn is approaching, and Aera needs to ensure that everyone is awake and alert before they make their leave.

They gather around the dining table—there’s  _ just _ enough space for all four of them. The only light they can afford to turn on is a small, dim camping lamp, placed in the centre of the table and shielded by their bodies. Though Rangi’s only windows are narrow and barely noticeable from the outside, they can’t risk being detected by the MTs.

“Any luck contacting your friends outside?” Aera’s not surprised when Rangi shakes his head, expression looking grim. 

“The cell towers were destroyed in the attack, I guess. There’s no signal.”

“We can try again after we’ve left, then.” She places a reassuring hand on his arm, but Aera can tell that Rangi remains worried, nonetheless. Though likely that the attack had been confined to Insomnia, without any electricity or cell signal, it’s impossible to know what the world outside may be like. While everyone maintains hope that the rest of Lucis is relatively unaffected, it seems they’re all prepared for the worst. 

Aera takes another moment to glance over the companions, gauging their expressions before moving onto the rest of the plan. “Alright, Arma Station is the one that’s closest to us; we’ll try that one, first.” The entrance appeared intact the last time Aera had seen it, but she hadn’t a chance to venture into the tunnels within.

“Our destination will be this tunnel, here.” She reaches over to point out an ‘x’ marked into one of the other pages; a storm drain that leads outside the city walls. It’s a far walk, especially through in the dark.

Lyra scans the maps, tracing a path from their starting point to the storm drain. “It could take us the entire day to get there.”

“Assuming we don’t run into any hiccups.” With a heavy sigh, Rangi runs his fingers through his hair, looking already exhausted by the prospect of their escape. Aera gives his shoulder a nudge, and the look he returns is almost petulant, if not for the grimness shadowing his features.

“We’ll be prepared for any delays—we’ve got almost a week’s worth of rations packed up.” Though her voice is slurred by sleep and her typical doe-eyed look is much more subdued, it’s clear that Lyra remains attentive. If her mind remains still on the grief she’d expressed the previous night, Lyra doesn’t let it show.

“I’ll lead, Nyx, you bring up the rear.” The Glaive nods, his focussed expression masking whatever distrust he may have developed overnight. “If things go sideways, do not engage.” She’s directing this to Rangi and Lyra, who don’t look like they’re about to disagree. “Those batons are a precaution, and hopefully you won’t need to use them.” The tension in her companions’ expressions assure Aera that they’re on the same page.

The room suddenly feels brighter, and indeed, when Aera glances at the window, a faint light falls through the curtains. Rangi must have noticed, too, because his shoulders grow more tense, and his expression more sombre.

“Everyone ready?” A nervous energy hums in the air as Aera glances at each of her companions, chest tightening as each of them realize this may be the last time they’ll ever see Insomnia. “Alright,” she says, just in case any of them decide to change their minds about leaving. “Let’s go.”

They’re silent as they march through the metro tunnel, the path ahead dimly illuminated by the small lights they’ve clipped to their clothing. They’ve met no resistance thus far, though it’s been a few hours since they left Rangi’s apartment. Yet, the growing unease keeps Aera on guard, and she maintains one hand closed around the handle of one of her daggers.

She pauses in front of a closed door, shifting her light so that she may read the metal sign set into the wall beside it. _Maintenance - Section F_ , it reads, and Aera casts a brief glance over to her companions. 

Nyx nods, dropping into a defensive stance in front of the door as her fingers curl around the handle. In spite of whatever distrust he may have expressed prior to their departure, it’s been easy for them to settle into such a routine with every corner they turned and each doorway they entered. 

She pulls the door open, and beyond the light creaking of the hinges, they’re met with silence. Nyx moves carefully as he enters, his kukris readied. There’s a pause, a short, tense moment of stillness before Aera sees the Glaive motion for the rest of them to follow.

The door shuts behind them, and Aera returns to her position in the lead. They’re only a few feet down the first corridor when something seems to scuttle away in the distance—something decidedly larger than a rat. Her new daggers leave their holsters, and her pace slows as they approach the corner up ahead.

Something scrambles across the hallway just as Aera turns, and she shares a brief look with Nyx before pushing forward. Without the Wall to protect Insomnia from both the Empire and the daemons, it’s perhaps no wonder that the latter had decided to move into the city’s dark underbelly.

There’s a sound like the earth breaking, and she can see their silhouettes forming in the smoke and shadows ahead. “Lyra, Rangi, stay close to the walls,” she orders, before running up ahead to meet the Goblins before they can get too close to her companions. Nyx joins her in the fray, his movements swift and deliberate as he cuts away at the Goblins. 

One of the daemons attempt to grab at her, and Aera twists out of its grasp, drawing her blade across its face. Its wail is unearthly and horrible, but it hardly bothers Aera enough to distract her. She strikes again, plunging the dagger into the thing’s abdomen before meeting the hungry hands of another Goblin with her other dagger.

It’s not an ideal battleground; far too dark and claustrophobic. But the narrow corridor ensures that Aera can keep an eye on Rangi and Lyra even as she cuts down the daemons. And between her and the Glaive, the fight ends quickly, with neither of them worse for wear.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” He’s hardly out of breath, sliding the daggers back into their respective sheaths.

“I had an interesting childhood,” she tosses back, moving to check on the rest of their group. It’s clearly not the answer Nyx wants, but Aera’s unconcerned for the moment.

Rangi has Lyra between his back and the wall, his baton held in his hands as his gaze sweeps for more monsters. When none appear, he noticeably relaxes, stepping away from Lyra. “Good work,” he says, running his fingers through his hair again. Aera wonders if this little fight might have added a few years to his age—she’s loathe to think of how he may react to anything worse.

“Do you need a potion?” To her credit, Lyra hardly looks bothered, though Aera can tell she’s holding back from rushing Aera to make sure that she was unharmed. 

“I’m fine. Nyx?” Throwing a glance over her shoulder, Aera quickly looks the Glaive over for any injuries beyond what he’d woken up with in Rangi’s apartment. He shakes his head, but he appears otherwise distracted, brows furrowed as his gaze remains pinned on something further up ahead. Frowning, she approaches him, practically holding her breath when he motions to the hallway up ahead.

She peers around the corner, feeling her stomach churn at the sight that greets her. Her gaze drops first to the backpacks left on the dusty floor, torn open and its contents strewn across the hallway. And a little further away lie the bodies, a dark pool of their blood marking the ground beneath them. Aera hears a sharp gasp behind her, and moves to shield Lyra from the carnage—though she’s clearly a little too late.

The Goblins were hardly a challenge at all, but Aera must remember that Insomnia’s citizens have not seen combat, and were untouched by the war raged around their city. If she or Nyx had not accompanied Lyra and Rangi—could this have been their fate as well?

“...We should keep moving.” Rangi’s voice is hoarse, and he has a protective arm around Lyra, trying to steer her away from the bodies. Aera nods solemnly, glancing at Nyx for a moment before continuing.

The scent of decay grows stronger as they approach, but Aera resolves to simply hold her breath. She maintains an impassive expression, ignoring the cadavers for Lyra’s sake more than her own. They push through into the next room, located at the end of the corridor; it’s a control room of sorts, though the switches and monitors are dark, and the chairs empty.

It would have been a good place to take a break, if not for the corpses that lay only a few meters down the hall from them. No one seems too intent on staying, either, so Aera wordlessly continues on, letting Nyx take point as she opens the next door. It’s a relief when nothing comes at them, but the unease has already settled into their bones, and accompanies them throughout the remainder of the journey.

They only have two more incidents since the first—more Goblins, likely having crept in from the area surrounding Insomnia. As malevolent as they are, they’re certainly preferable to the wilder creatures that inhabit the world outside, and easily dispatched. It seems the Empire didn’t think MTs would be needed in the underground, where they might have expected daemons to dominate and pick off any survivors who dared to enter. 

Yet the encounters, coupled with far too many collapsed tunnels, runs their journey well into the night. They stop only at Aera’s insistence that continuing without rest will only leave them more vulnerable should something  _ worse _ than Goblins appear. The room in which they settle is cramped and smells of musk, but the door is secure and their combined lights seem to ward away anything too curious. Aera positions herself by the door, absently twirling one kukri between her hands as she listens for the noises outside.

She can’t tell if Lyra or Rangi were able to sleep much at all, and she has doubts that Nyx afforded himself much more than a light nap. They all seem to wake the moment Aera stands to stretch, and their journey continues in silence.

The route takes them through metro tunnels to service tunnels, and even the sewers. “There’s a reason I told you guys to wear waterproof shoes,” Aera murmurs, trying not to step too deep into the murky waters. 

“You should have told us to bring gas masks, too,” comes Rangi’s disgruntled retort, muffled by the arm he’s pressed over his mouth and nose.

“I don’t think they would have helped against smells, anyway.” Lyra makes a gagging noise; apparently the air tastes as bad as it smells.

Nyx responds with a snort, and clearly regrets it when he starts choking on the putrid air as well. 

To her credit, Aera doesn’t laugh at any of them, though her lips are curved into the barest semblance of a smirk. “We’re almost through.” And indeed, they should be reaching another conduit soon, one that will take them to the storm drain. Eventually, the odour of waste fades, leaving only musk and dust. They’ve travelled well into a second evening by the time Aera leads them to the storm drain.

The silence and tension breaks at the sight of the night sky ahead of them, marred by an iron gate. The air is brisk, but it’s quiet, and nothing stirs but the wind. Lyra breaks away from Rangi, her boots splashing along the floor of the tunnel as she hurries towards the drain’s exit. Her voice is quiet, but it carries down the tunnel just the same: “we made it.”

Those words seem to break the spell over Rangi, who visibly relaxes as he joins Lyra by the gate. The vast, empty land around Insomnia greets them, and Aera knows if they are to look a little further, they’ll find the ocean below. The sight is as beautiful as it is bittersweet; a victory that’s not without its losses.

“So, what now?” 

Her brows furrow as she turns to look at Nyx, regarding her with the same, careful expression he held back in Rangi’s apartment. “It’s too dangerous to continue out there while it’s nighttime.” With the king’s Wall dissipated, Aera has no doubt that daemons are already taking the opportunity to creep closer to the city, as the Goblins had. “We can rest here, and move out in the morning.”

“That’s not what I meant.” To his credit, Nyx keeps his voice low, glancing over at Lyra and Rangi, who are already setting up a campsite of sorts by the gate and are paying them no mind. “After we leave; what’s after that?”

She knows that Nyx is clever enough to realize that she’s not without a plan, and she herself is perceptive enough to know that it’s not just their escape plan he wants to know. “There will likely be a blockade further down the road that leads into the city, but there’s a footbridge beneath the road. It was used for maintenance, but its entrance can be difficult to find, so I don’t expect there to be any patrols there. And after that,” she looks over to the others, “we’ll head to Hammerhead. It’s the nearest outpost, and hopefully we’ll have cell signal by then. We’ll see who we can contact for help...and we’ll go from there.”

The Glaive maintains his guarded expression, lips pressed into a thin line as he watches her. It’s as though he’s trying to unravel any lies, sifting through the pieces and hoping something will align. Aera can’t fault him for his distrust, for what little she’s telling him. And on the surface, it would appear there’s little harm in revealing what she’s been tasked to do. Yet, Aera tends to err on the side of caution, and it’s served her well for so long. 

And besides, secrecy is sort of her trade.

“We should eat,” she finally says, when Nyx doesn’t say anything at all. He only nods, allowing his expression to settle into something more amicable as he approaches the others. Her head cants as she watches him. 

She entertains the possibilities of what might occur is she  _ does _ tell him everything. Really, though, Aera’s not even sure he’d believe her, if she does.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. 04

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally making it out of Insomnia, Aera meets up with an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter underwent some minor edits November 15, 2017 (as though to celebrate the release of FFXV Comrades, right? :P )

It becomes very clear, very quickly, that Lyra hasn’t ventured outside of Insomnia before. Her eyes are wide with wonder as she scans the surrounding landscape, lips parted slightly at the vastness of the emptiness around her. Aera and Rangi share a look, both of them shaking their heads at the teenager’s unabashed joy as she runs towards the sounds of the waves breaking.

“I mean, I know what the ocean looks like, but— _ wow _ .”

It’s such a drastic change from the reserved, observant girl Aera’s known since the attack that she can’t help but grin at the teenager. 

And it’s not as though Aera can blame her. It’s certainly not her first time seeing the ocean, but after their numerous days and nights spent huddled in Rangi’s cozy but  _ small _ apartment, and a tense journey through the claustrophobic underground of Insomnia—the water really is a sight for sore eyes.

“Hey, don’t go too close to the edge.” Rangi jogs to catch up with the girl, stopping when he’s certain she’s not about to tumble over the cliff.

That sense of urgency has dissipated with the rising sun, though Aera—like Nyx, it appears—maintains her guard, even as she relishes the warmth of the sun on her face and the ability to just stretch her arms.

“Imagine how she’ll react when we actually get to the water,” Nyx muses, watching the teenager with a fond expression Aera doesn’t expect.

“Rangi might want to put one of those leash backpacks on her.” With a laugh, Aera jogs to catch up to the others, shouldering the backpack that Lyra had dropped as she ran to get a closer look at the crashing waves. “C’mon kid,” she calls out, “we’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”

The path down to the footbridge is a precarious one, with the wooden steps partly rotted and the stairs obscured by wild foliage. Rangi takes lead—he’s the least graceful out of all of them, he announced, and figured that if he loses his footing, at least he wouldn’t be falling into the rest of them. Aera figures he’s mostly joking, because he traverses down the uneven steps with relative ease.

“How do you know about these stairs?” Nyx’s voice is right beside her ear, and by this point, Aera can’t decide if he’s expressing his suspicions with her just as a means to pass the time. 

“My parents used to take me to a beach down there all the time when I was a kid. Before the war became even worse.” Mention of her parents no longer elicits the same grief as it had years ago, but even now, it causes a tightening in her chest. “I wandered off while my dad was chasing after one of my...more wayward school friends. Ended up at that storm drain.”

The expression she catches out of the corner of her eyes speaks to Nyx’s doubt, but she only shrugs. She hasn’t lied to him yet, and this is no exception.

And sure enough, a stretch of pristine beach circles the grounds beyond the steps, with the ocean to one side and the rocky cliff to the other. It’s clear that the beach has been untouched by people for a long time; what had once been a tranquil vacation spot for Lucian families who know of it, is now abandoned as the war encroached ever closer to Insomnia.

The wooden steps melt into a path cutting through the tall grass, and the trail diverges; one leads to a precarious climb down to the beach, and the other ends at a set of metal stairs. To Lyra’s disappointment, they take the path to the second set of stairs.

While their journey out of the city had been tense and silent, their walk beneath the bridge—and over the ocean—seems to mirror the sunny skies and glistening water. There’s small talk and banter, and a couple of awfully cheesy jokes that has Aera grimacing. And even while the grief of leaving their homes behind still lingers, it plays second fiddle to the collective sense of relief, the weight of a difficult escape being taken off their shoulders.

They’re having lunch when Aera checks her phone again, feeling just a tad anxious when she sees that they’re close enough to another cell tower that there’s signal. A number of missed notifications appear on her phone, and she glances up at Rangi, motioning towards her device to remind him of his.

He nods and stands, pulling his own phone out of his pocket. Aera watches him as he moves away from the group to make his calls before glancing down at the screen on her phone. She can feel Nyx and Lyra’s eyes on her as she scrolls through the text messages, but she ignores them.

_ I made it out of the city. _ Sent the day after the attack. More followed, spanning the next few days following the siege.

_ Did you make it out? Call me. _

_ I’m at Hammerhead. Meet me here. _

_ I caught up with Noctis. Did you leave Insomnia yet? _

_ Please tell me you’re still alive. _

Aera can’t deny she feels nervous as she taps the icon to call, though she’s not sure why. Perhaps the prospect of finally hearing a familiar voice now seems so unlikely, that Aera’s trying to prepare herself for disappointment. But the phone only makes it to two rings before someone picks up.

_ “Aera?” _

Stubborn bastard, of course he’s alright. “Yeah. Just made it out of Insomnia.” She sounds breathless even to her own ears.

_ “Took you long enough.” _ And despite his perpetual, stoic tone, Aera can hear the relief in his voice, the small breath he lets out before speaking again.  _ “Where are you now?” _

“Just outside the city walls—under the bridge.” She glances up as Rangi rejoins them, his expression curious as he glances over to her. “We should be at Hammerhead tomorrow.”

_ “...’We’?” _

“Yeah, there’s four of us.”

A brief moment of silence, as though he’s processing the information. Knowing him, she’s pretty sure that he’s eager to get her started on the task that has been given to her, and that civilians would mean a delay. He’s going to have to just deal with that.

_ “Alright. I’ll meet you at Hammerhead.” _ There’s a pause, then,  _ “stay safe, Aera.” _

“You know I will.” She hangs up, the way her companions are not-so-subtly trying to hide their curiosity not lost on her. Lips quirk into an amused smile as she slides the phone back into her pocket and she picks up her sandwich. “Rangi, are your friends okay?”

“Yeah...looks like the Empire only hit Insomnia.” His voice is an interesting mixture of relief and bitterness, and Aera can only respond with a tight-lipped nod. “They offered to let us stay with them, at Lestallum.”

“That’s pretty far…” Nyx pauses mid-bite, frowning. 

“I know...They offered to pick us up at Hammerhead, but I couldn’t ask that of them. I figured we could hitchhike, or rent some Chocobos.”

“...Can we please rent some Chocobos?” Lyra glances at them furtively over her sandwich, eyes wide as though bracing for a ‘no’. 

“I don’t understand what is with everyone’s fascination with those giant birds,” the Glaive mutters in response, shaking his head. His lips are pulled into a smile, though, and he glances at Aera, as if asking for a consensus.

“I don’t see why not.” With a chuckle, Aera finishes the rest of her sandwich. “We’re going to get sick of walking pretty soon, anyway.”

“You guys are the best.” 

* * *

The journey takes longer than Aera initially thought it would be, though in retrospect, she should have accounted for the fact that Lyra and Rangi are still civilians. In spite of their cheerful start, it’s clear the journey is wearing on them, and they’ve had to stop for breaks more frequently than Aera would have liked.

Night had begun to fall before they’d reached the nearest Haven—so of course, when they finally did arrive, both Rangi and Lyra were exhausted by the hectic run through the darkness. Both had all but passed out without bothering to set up the tent, so it was perhaps fortunate the forecast hadn’t called for rain.

The remainder of their journey the next day is quiet, with Rangi and Lyra both looking as though they’ve pulled all-nighters. At their pace, the group doesn’t reach the outpost at Hammerhead until early afternoon, and Aera swears that Rangi is tearing up at the sight of the diner and the smell of greasy fast food. 

It’s not as though they’ve been living on the rationed sandwiches and protein bars for that long. But the sight of other people and buildings, even if the region outside of Insomnia is more or less foreign to Lyra and Rangi, is an undeniable relief.

But it’s not the diner that Aera has her eyes on. She recognizes the figure even at a distance, and the sense of relief feels like a solid wall. Her steps falter, but Aera doesn’t pay attention to her companions’ curious gazes. She takes another second to confirm that she’s not just hallucinating, before running towards the man at full speed.

“Cor!” 

He turns, and though his expression remains neutral, Aera can see the shift in his posture as soon as he catches sight of her. She stops just short of running into him, pausing for a moment before she throws her arms around him. His chest rumbles with a low chuckle, and he puts one arm over her shoulders; it’s as close to a hug as she’ll get. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he tells her, the corner of his lips twitching into the barest semblance of a smile. By some miracle, he doesn’t chastise her for acting like a small child. His gaze shifts over her shoulder to her companions, but his attention remains on Aera. “I knew you would be.”

“Picked up that stubbornness from you, you know.” Aera pulls away, her smile small but lopsided and light.

“Good, it means I’ve trained you well.” He’s looking past her once more, brows furrowing as the others draw closer. “A Glaive…?”

When Aera turns, she sees that Nyx has straightened his posture, looking every bit the soldier his uniform suggests him to be. If he’s surprised to see the Marshal here, he hides it well. “Sir.”

Beside him, Lyra and Rangi share a look, and while their expressions are curious, they keep their questions to themselves. Cor gives them his usual silent acknowledging nod, and turns to Aera with a brow raised.

“You guys go on ahead, before Rangi threatens cannibalism.” A hand motions them towards the diner, and there’s another shared look between them before they agree. When her companions are out of hearing range, Aera turns to Cor. “Something tells me you want to talk business.”

A tiny smile graces his otherwise stony features, and he motions towards the vast landscape behind the outpost. Aera keeps pace beside him, caught between wanting for nothing but small talk, for some semblance of normality—and being eager to carry on with her plans.

“You already know the Glaives were deployed outside of Insomnia on the day of the treaty signing.” And of course, the Marshal puts work as top priority. Aera’s not terribly disappointed, though; she’s grown up with this man, and she’s used to his cold countenance.

“Yes. And no, I do not know how Nyx ended up back in Insomnia. We found him near the body of General Glauca.” Or, what’s left of the body. It had begun decaying much quicker than it perhaps should, and Aera has to wonder if what had granted him his unnatural strength might have had an unpleasant side effect.

She’s careful not to mention that Nyx wasn’t exactly alive when she first found him. Though his composure remains steadfast, Aera doesn’t need Cor to worry more than she knows he already does. 

Cor’s expression shifts, only slightly. “Nyx Ulric?” When her brows raise in surprise, Cor simply shrugs. “He has quite the reputation among the Kingsglaive. His skills are said to be quite impressive.” 

“Well, he can certainly hold up his own, even without the King’s powers to aid him anymore.” 

“I trust that you haven’t told him anything of your assignment.”

Aera frowns, her steps pausing as she turns to face Cor. “No, of course not.” Her question sits unspoken on her lips, trusting Cor to elaborate.

And he does, shoulders heaving with a sigh that seems uncharacteristic for him. “I came upon the ruins of some of the Niflheim vessels which the Glaives were to be infiltrating. It was meant to be a rescue operation, for the Lady Lunafreya.”

Having been privy to this information already, Aera nods, silently urging Cor to continue.

“The Oracle has escaped, fortunately. However, many Glaives perished on those ships.” He casts a gaze over to the dusty lands of the Leiden countryside, brows furrowing for a brief moment before continuing. “I found the body of one of these Glaives; he had an Insomnia-issued dagger plunged into his back.”

Her head cants, brows knotting together at the implications of this information. “Only MTs were on those vessels?” The Marshall nods, and Aera begins piecing the information together. The Magitek operatives hold some sort of base instinct, but they are largely only capable of following the orders programmed into their system—however that worked. No MT soldier would have the mind to take a Glaive’s blade and use it against him.

“Traitors.” The word tastes bitter on her tongue, her hands closed into angry fists. It would explain how Niflheim was able to infiltrate the Citadel; an inside job, or at least a task done with insider information. It at first seems inconceivable that the stalwart soldiers would be capable of this sort of treason—but Aera also understands from where their hatred may stem. She’s witnessed firsthand how some of Insomnia’s natives view the city’s immigrant population. And she’s experienced it herself, as her mother hadn’t been born in Insomnia either.

“You think Nyx is one of them?”

“No. He was the one who helped Lady Lunafreya escape, and she seems to think quite highly of him.” 

This time, Aera’s surprise is unabashed, and she can’t help but think that Cor was setting her up for such a reaction. The look she gives him is mildly unimpressed, and he gives her that microscopic, half-smirk again before looking out into the distance again. 

“He may be a valuable ally.”

Aera frowns, the implication of his words not at all lost on her. “You’re telling me to let him in on this whole...thing.” 

“Don’t tell him everything. But though I have confidence in your skills and your training, your task is dangerous. You can’t expect to manage it alone.”

Her frown deepens. “You’re not coming with me.”

The Marshal shakes his head, and for a moment, Aera catches something like regret flash over his usually impassive countenance. “The Prince has a ways to go before he is ready to reclaim the throne. And there is much to be done in the meanwhile.”

It seems unfair that Aera would be reunited with Cor—the only person left whom she considers her family—only so that they would part ways again. Perhaps even worse is the knowledge that both of their roads are wrought with danger. But such are their duties, and both she and Cor are nothing if not dutiful.

“You do what you can, then. And I’ll do what I can.” It seems to satisfy Cor, who places an encouraging hand on her shoulder.

“I’ve made preparations for your travels, though I wasn’t expecting you would be accompanied by civilians.” She gives him a half-hearted, apologetic shrug. If it bothers Cor, he doesn’t let it show.

“Rangi has friends in Lestallum. He was able to get a hold of them, so that’s where they’ll be headed. It’s on the way, so…” The Marshal is not heartless, yet Aera knows what he thinks of her  _ distraction _ from her task. The tight-lipped look he gives her doesn’t disappoint, but the response he provides elicits genuine surprise.

“There should be enough room in your vehicle then.”

That gives her pause. “My vehicle?”

“I did mention that I’ve made preparations, didn’t I?” He gestures to the Hammerhead lot, where a couple of vehicles were parked. Aera recognizes Cor’s bike, and assumes the rest belong to the other patrons of the outpost. “I’ve gathered some additional supplies, and the tank is full.” Without looking at her, Cor motions for Aera to follow.

He stops in front of a boxy black jeep, and fishes a set of keys out from one of his pockets. “It’s all I can do for now.”

“Is this a belated sweet-sixteen present?” She accepts the keys, gaze jumping to the jeep before pocketing them.

The man snorts, but Aera doesn’t miss the smile on his face. “I’m only eight years too late.” The smile dims, and he glances over to the diner. “Go eat with your friends. I’ll see you off tomorrow.”

She nods, surprising the Marshal with another hug before leaving him with a mock salute.

* * *

When she enters the diner, the air is heavy with unasked questions, but Aera’s companions respectfully refrain from asking about the Marshal (though she’s pretty sure they did not hesitate to drill Nyx on the enigmatic man while she was away). They settle into the small caravan parked outside the diner, conversations once again returning to small talk and jokes—topics that, Aera noticed, have little to no relationship to the lives they had in Insomnia.

And while the others are content to settle into their bunk beds in the caravan, Aera remains outside, eyes on the constellations above. The sight settles the knots in her stomach and the tension in her shoulders; like the presence of a childhood trinket. She remains in her chair for a moment longer before quietly entering the caravan, smiling at the sound of steady breaths and quiet snores.

Aera carefully, silently, retrieves a blanket from Lyra’s backpack, and returns outside with it wrapped around her shoulders. Both Lyra and Rangi were elated to learn that they now have a means to reaching Lestallum, and their demeanors seem even lighter than before. It must seem to them that things are truly looking up, in spite of the devastating loss of their home and their loved ones.

But for Aera, her work is nowhere near done.

Deftly, she climbs to the top of the caravan, and settles by the front. She’s cross-legged, eyes on the stars when she hears the door open. Lyra’s light footsteps are easy to recognize, and when the teenager lowers herself to the spot beside her, Aera’s brows furrow. 

“I can’t sleep,” she girl says simply, and Aera can hear the coarseness in her voice, the way it trembles. It’s hard to forget how  _ difficult _ a tranquil night can be, how insistent the silence sounds to a mourning mind. And even the absolute nothingness of sleep can be a heavy burden, where one’s mind runs to places far too dark.

Aera remains silent, putting an arm around the girl’s shoulders and pulling her closer. Lyra’s body shudders with a single, stifled sob, and feeling her own grief surface, Aera lowers her gaze, pressing a kiss to the top of Lyra’s head.

“Am I—am I ever going to stop missing them?” Lyra’s voice shakes, and Aera knows she’s holding back tears.

Oh, how Aera wishes she can tell her that it will be okay, that one day, she won’t ever have to wish she could go back to how things were, or yearn to hear their voices again, feel the warmth of their presence. She wishes she can tell Lyra that at some point, she will stop feeling guilty for being the one who lived, that she will stop punishing herself for it.

But Aera doesn’t want to lie.

“No,” her voice is barely a whisper, “it’s going to be a constant companion for a long while, lingering in some corner of your mind. But you’ll get used to it, and it’ll stop hurting.” It’s the only thing Aera can say that she knows is true, though she can only hope Lyra has the strength to make that so.

“But it hurts so much now.”

And Aera remembers just how much it had hurt, how it felt as though her heart was gripped in a barbed vice, how it darkened and steeled and nullified any and all of the light from her. It’s startling, how similar that is to her emotions now. There may not have been many people to whom Aera felt close, in Insomnia—but that was her  _ home _ . And now it’s gone. 

“I know.”   
  


* * *

 

Feathered lashes flutter open as the dark of the night wanes, giving way to the glow of sunrise. Her body feels stiff, arms locked in position so that Lyra wouldn’t accidentally fall off the top of the caravan in her slumber. The girl is still sleeping, so Aera remains in that position still, as her gaze sweeps out to the rising sun.

She hadn’t cried, though her eyes feel puffy and her chest tight. 

It’s almost funny how the landscape in front of her feels almost more familiar than Insomnia does at times; she’s spent so much of the last few years outside of the Crown City’s borders. And if she really wants to fool herself, Aera might pretend that this is simply another assignment, that when this is over, she’ll have a home to return to.

The caravan shifts slightly below her, and the slight creak of the door opening announces that someone else is awake. She’s unsurprised to see Nyx leaving the doorway, sans jacket. He takes a moment to stretch before looking around, likely for her and Lyra.

It takes him a moment before his gaze finds the top of the caravan, and his expression is set into a small frown. Aera returns it with a tight-lipped shrug, her expression no doubt mirroring the exhaustion she suddenly feels. Her slumber was not a restorative one, her mind replaying her losses—all of them—well into the night.

Aera can see the way his expression shifts as his eyes move to Lyra’s sleeping form, curled up beside Aera. There’s a sadness, a look of haunting that alludes to something in his past, much further back than Insomnia’s fall. But Aera’s curiosity takes a back seat to her fatigue, and her attention returns to the sunrise. 

She watches until the sun crests, until the silence of the dawn dissolves to the noises of human activity, of the garage’s proprietor—an ally of the Crown, Aera knows, and old friend to the King—opening up his garage. The caravan’s door opens again, and Aera knows that Rangi’s awakened as well.

He looks up at her, his expression sympathetic. For her part, Aera manages a small smile, one that lasts mere seconds. It’s not quite enough to quell her companion’s concern, and his face remains set in a frown even as he walks away, rummaging in his backpack for the ingredients of their breakfast.

The meal itself is a quiet affair, stifled by the remnants of sleep and the apparent need to tiptoe around Lyra. Her expression appears carefully neutral, and in spite of the occasional smile they’ve managed to elicit from her, it’s clear that Lyra is still working through her grief.

She leaves the table almost immediately after finishing her meal, announcing in a quiet voice that she’ll start packing up for the next leg of her journey. Rangi watches her departing figure with a frown, taking a moment to share a look with Aera before he follows.

Aera heaves a sigh as she watches the two of them leave, gaze dropping to the remnants of her breakfast when they disappear into the caravan. It remains quiet for a while, before Nyx finally speaks.

“Is...she okay?” There’s a crease between his brows, punctuating the concern on his features as he looks from the caravan to Aera.

She responds with a tight-lipped expression. “When Rangi and I found her…” It’s an unsettling memory, even worse with how Aera seems to recall with utmost clarity. “She was in a store with her family, where some others had gathered for shelter during the battle. The building collapsed.” It had been near silent, the only thing alerting Aera and Rangi to Lyra being her quiet cries. Getting her out had been a precarious endeavour, and when Aera had intended to search within the building for more survivors, she’d been stopped by a shaking hand on her arm. 

“She was the only one who’d survived.”

The look on Nyx’s face reflects her own, and again, her gaze simply drops to her food, appetite gone. There had been a sudden change in Lyra’s demeanor after they’d arrived at Rangi’s apartment; she’d been determined, utilizing quick thinking and strategizing that impressed even Aera. It had been obvious even then that she was merely setting her grief aside.

Aera doesn’t look up when she hears the pair exit the caravan, swallowing the last of her breakfast just as Rangi approaches. He’s shouldered his backpack, his brows remain drawn together as he regards her. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Yeah…” For the first time in perhaps forever, Aera doesn’t sound convincing even to her own ears. 

Rangi’s frown only deepens. 

“Maybe you should nap in the car. I can drive.” She doesn’t miss the apprehension in his voice, as though he’s testing the boundaries of their trust.

Aera considers it anyway, because though she’s confident she’ll remain alert enough to drive if she has to, it might at least put everyone else at ease if she doesn’t. “Thanks, Rangi.” She fishes around in her pocket for the keys Cor had given her, dropping them in Rangi’s open palm. Appearing somewhat relieved, he nods before heading for the parked jeep.

She can still feel Nyx’s eyes on her as she stands from the table, pausing only to rub the sleep from her eyes as she joins Rangi at the jeep. Lips quirk in mild amusement when she notices him eying the curatives in the trunk as he stacks their own supplies beside the crates. “This car looks like it’s stocked for battle.”

“Cor’s a big fan of preparation,” she replies, shrugging as though Rangi hadn’t guessed correctly. Her companion gives her a pointed look before closing the trunk, motioning for Lyra and Nyx to get in.

Aera slides into the back, head resting against the window as she watches Nyx open the front passenger door for Lyra, bowing at her with a flourish. It’s enough to bring a smile—albeit small—to the girl’s face. “Milady.”

“Oh, stop.” But there’s laughter in her voice, and the sound of it eases Aera’s concerns.

Nyx slides into the remaining seat, the smile still on his face even when he looks over to Aera. There’s some modicum of uncertainty there, the curve of his lips uttering a silent apology. It’s clear that he retains some of his prior distrust, though seeing her interaction with Cor must have eased that somewhat. She replies with a lopsided smile of her own, before releasing the yawn that’s been building in her chest.

“I promise I won’t make you too motion-sick,” Rangi teases as he pulls out of the parking spot.

“If I have to throw up, I’m leaning over to throw up on you.” Her smile widens at the disgruntled sound she elicits from him, and allows her eyes to close.

They’re barely an hour into the drive when Aera feels her phone vibrating in her pocket, its buzzing merging with the music Rangi put on the radio. Without opening her eyes, she accepts the call and puts it to her ear. There’s only one person who would call her, anyway.

_ “Did you leave Hammerhead already? _ ”

“Yeah, not long ago.” Her eyes open and her brows draw together, ignoring the look she’s receiving from the Glaive beside her.

There’s a brief pause, one that only piques Aera’s curiosity and concern further.  _ “The Empire recently began construction of a new base on the road to Duscae _ . _ ” _

Aera sits up straighter, sleep finally leaving her. “Of course they have.” It’s said in a low grumble, a hand rises to pinch the bridge of her nose. Even after leaving the city, it seems the Empire remains standing firmly in their way. 

_ “I’ve tasked Noctis with taking it down. _ ” Her brows raise, but she waits for Cor to continue.  _ “The Glaive may be helpful. And there may be some useful information at the base. _ ”

The smile spreads, slow and sure. “Got it. Where am I meeting you?”

_ “You can drop your companions off at the Prairie Outpost. The hunters there will ensure their safety until you return, and they will provide you with the directions to the base.” _ Aera nods, recalling the outpost as one she’s visited more than a few times in the past.  _ “Noctis and I will meet you at the base.” _

“See you soon, then.” The phone is returned to her pocket, and she can see Rangi’s gaze flickering up to meet hers in the rearview mirror.

“A detour?” He doesn’t sound too pleased, clearly eager to see his friends in Lestallum. 

“The road west is blocked by an Imperial base.” Her attention leaves Rangi, drifting over to Nyx whose brows are already drawn deeply together. “We’ll need to clear it out before we can continue to Lestallum.”

The Glaive doesn’t hesitate even for a moment before nodding, determination already set into his features, lips set into a serious, almost grim line.

Rangi simply sighs in response, and Aera can imagine his grumpy expression even if she can no longer see his face. Lyra reaches out to pat him on the shoulder, as though in silent reminder that some things will always be well out of their control. “Alright, where are we heading, then?”

“The Prairie Outpost. You guys can rest there for a bit while Nyx and I meet up with Cor.”

She can see Rangi nod, setting the destination on the jeep’s navigation system to the aforementioned outpost. Relieved to have met little resistance from him, Aera leans back into her seat, casting a surreptitious glance at Nyx.

His eyes are on the passing landscape outside, but there’s a determined set in his jaw and a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there earlier. It’s clear that the Glaive never intended to lay down quietly once they’ve reached Lestallum, that his ill-will towards the Empire will not rest.

Aera wonders briefly if he’s realized the same with her, but says nothing as she gazes out the window again. It’ll feel good to be back at her job again.   
  
  



	5. 05

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Nif base is thoroughly destroyed, and Aera finally tells Nyx who she is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So life happened and this fic went on a bit of a hiatus. I've since edited some of the older chapters and wrote much further ahead while finalizing the direction I want this fic to take. I love reading about the lore and working with it to create something new, so that's what you'll be expecting in the chapters to come (and for those that really want it, yes, some more chemistry and romance, too).
> 
> Enjoy!

The outpost’s dilapidated appearance incites an obvious unease in Rangi and Lyra, though they’ve the tact not to say anything aloud. Brick well-worn from the aftershocks of war, numerous sandstorms and the simple passage of time, the buildings hardly look apt to remain standing. Yet, the hunters who occupy it seem hardly bothered, and even Aera finds some comfort in the scar-marked buildings.

No one pays them any mind as they pull up to the lot, yet Rangi’s trepidation remains in his wide eyes and clear reluctance to hand the keys over to Aera. He and Lyra hover awkwardly beside the car as Aera approaches the first person she sees; a hunter who’s often supplied her with helpful information whenever her assignments take her this way.

“Soren,” she greets, smiling as the man turns to face her. The lines seem deeper on his face, eyes shadowed by too many nights spent sleepless, worried. Her smile falters, creased by unvoiced concern.

As per hunter tradition, Soren simply waves it off. “Ah—Aera. Monica mentioned you’ll be dropping by.” He gives Nyx a friendly nod, before waving them over to one of the buildings. Aera pauses to cast a glance over her shoulder at the other two, who reply with a small wave and matching, uneasy smiles. More or less satisfied, she returns her attention to the hunter.

“The base is just west of here; it’s pretty hard to miss.” From a shelf, the hunter procures a map, the base and their intended means of entry marked in bright red. “The Marshal said he’d already be there, and the Prince left to join him not long ago.” 

“The Prince?” There’s obvious surprise in Nyx’s voice, accompanied by something like relief. 

Soren nods. “Yes, he and his party arrived shortly before you did.” His gaze skims over Nyx with unbridled curiosity; black fatigues mark him as a proud Insomnian, and the armour over his chest signify his position in the military. It’s a reminder that she’s going to have to get him a change of clothes; he stands out just a little too much against the dusty neutrals of the greater Lucian landscape.

Aera skims over the map, marking the trail in her mind before looking up at the hunter. “Thanks, Soren. We’ll get out of your hair now.” 

“Be careful, Aera.” He claps a hand to her shoulder, brows drawn together.  “Things have gotten a lot more...intense since the attack on Insomnia.” Though hunters are well accustomed to trouble, the low tenor of Soren’s voice has Aera wondering if the attack on Insomnia was only the tip of the iceberg. 

“You as well, Soren.”

The man looks to Nyx once more, the look almost appraising, before nodding. He leaves them both in the foyer of the old building, and Aera can’t help but feel Nyx’s stare boring holes into her head.

The look she fixes him is dry, head canting and brows raised.

“A riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in an expensive leather jacket,” he remarks; his voice is teasing and his lips are quirked into a characteristic smirk, but there’s something more in the way he’s regarding her. Curiosity, perhaps; she might go so far as to say an understanding of sorts. After all, she knows she’s a puzzle he’s been trying to solve since he woke up in Rangi’s apartment. 

She has no intentions of giving him anything close to an answer, so Aera simply snorts before handing to map to Nyx. “That’s what makes this all fun, isn’t it?” His smirk seems to widen, as though recognizing a challenge, and Aera mirrors the expression. “We’re also going to need to get you a new jacket.” She taps the insignia on his chest, “bit too conspicuous.” Aera barely affords a second glance at the slight frown on the Glaive’s face before leading him back to the jeep.

She had noticed the black in the trunk, peeking out between the potions and elixirs, and she’s almost unsurprised to see her pack, already filled with curatives. She hums, content, as she clips it to her belt and buckles its strap around her thigh. It’s been a constant companion, stained with the blood of more creatures and people than Aera would care to recall—it’s also saved her life a number of times. It’s no wonder Cor thought to grab it for her, though she has to wonder when he had the time.

She grabs a few more flasks of the curatives from the crates, handing them over to Nyx. He accepts them with a raised brow, still watching her curiously as she closes the trunk’s hatch. The air hums with his unasked questions, but they both seem to acknowledge that this is not quite the time for that.

“Ready?”

The Glaive gives her a resolute nod, sliding into the front passenger seat as she takes her place in the driver’s seat. Their destination is a short drive away, and Aera takes care to park far enough to avoid detection. Footsteps light and quick, the pair disappear into the brush surrounding the base, moving towards the location marked on Soren’s map.

The rest of the group has already assembled by the back entrance, and Cor is the first to notice their arrival. The others turn their gazes to her, and Aera can see their slight surprise as they notice her.

Gladio is the first to greet her, apparently glad to see a familiar face. “Aera, it’s good to see you made it out of the city.”

The smile she gives him is appreciative, but tinged with heartache. By now, he must have learned of his father’s fate as Noctis had, and she can recognize the bereavement in his eyes. And though they’re not as close companions as Gladio is to the prince, she’s known the young warrior long enough to know that he’ll disapprove of any acts of consolation on his behalf. So instead, she replies with a simple, “you as well.”

“A Kingsglaive?” The voice is recognizably Ignis’, and sure enough, he turns from his friends to appraise them with brows raised. Nyx’s posture straightens the same way he had under Cor’s acknowledgement—and it strikes Aera as perhaps a little endearing. 

“Ignis,” Aera greets him with a small wave, “this is Nyx Ulric.”

The young advisor nods, fixing the Glaive with a measuring look. “Ignis Scientia. That’s Prompto,” he motions towards the young blond, who responds with an enthusiastic wave, “I’m sure you must have seen Gladiolus Amiticia a few times around the Citadel and Crownsguard headquarters.” On cue, Gladio offers a polite nod. “And this—”

“We’ve met,” Noctis interjects, moving away from his blond friend to greet Nyx. “Briefly.” 

A brow raises at the aloof tone—typical of the prince. Aera had learned through her years spent around the royal family that Noctis truly means no offence, though accompanied by his royal blood and almost brooding appearance, this wouldn’t be the first time someone interprets the tone as one of condescension. But Nyx hardly seems to take offence, maintaining his posture and returning the greeting with a polite nod and a brisk, “your Highness.”

Cor straightens, and the silent gesture is enough to command everyone’s attention. “We will split into two groups. Noctis and I will ambush them from within; Aera, you will enter with us—infiltrate and gather as much intel as you deem useful. The rest of you will join Monica in the diversion.”

While the others nod their assent, Aera catches sight of Nyx’s frown. Unfortunately for the Glaive, Cor seems to have noticed as well. “What is it?”

If the Marshal intimidates him, Nyx doesn’t let it show. His tone is neutral, respectful, as he speaks. “Aera’s going alone?”

There’s a momentary flash of— _ something _ —over Cor’s face. Whether it is surprise or amusement, she can’t quite tell. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“We haven’t determined the number of Magitek troopers within the base. She should have back-up, in case—”

“I’ll be fine, Nyx.” The smile she gives him is reassuring, but it barely masks her surprise. Considering that he’s likely wondered if she’s a defector or traitor of some kind only a day ago, Aera doesn’t expect him to worry after her at all. “I’m pretty good at remaining undetected.”

The Glaive doesn’t seem convinced, regarding her with his brows drawn together and lips set into a thin line. Aera responds with a noncommittal shrug, but it’s Gladio who speaks. “Something tells me you’ve never seen her in action.”

Nyx still doesn’t look terribly happy about the situation, but his hands come up as if in surrender. Seemingly satisfied, Cor motions for the diversionary group to move along before turning to Aera with a brow raised and the most minute quirk of his lips. It’s perhaps the closest Cor will come to a smile in front of the prince.

She responds by narrowing her eyes almost theatrically before ushering them in through the open back gates.

The structure is an interesting one; certainly much older than Aera had anticipated, with worn brick marked by erosion. Greenery scales along the walls, and if not for the recently installed scaffolding, the place might look altogether abandoned.

Yet as they creep past the first square court, Aera can already hear the mechanical movements of Imperial soldiers, the whir of their machinery as they patrol the courts. The three of them share a look and a nod, taking up positions against the walls as they assess the situation.

Half a dozen Troopers, two of whom walk along the length of one wall in alternating paths while the rest are stationed throughout the space, one on the scaffolding above. Aera’s eyes shift to Noctis, who meets her gaze with a firm nod. She doesn’t wait for his warp-strike before she moves out, Cor mirroring her movements.

One dagger finds an exposed sliver on the Trooper’s back, and there’s an almost panicked crackle and the whir of machinery as it attempts to twist around. Aera’s movements are fluid, the flow of a river around a rock as she dances around the metal soldier. She knocks the gun away before the Trooper can take aim, driving her other blade into its faceplate.

Its twitching is eerily reminiscent of a dying human, but the Trooper makes no noise or cry as it grows motionless. Fingers close around the Trooper’s arm as Aera pulls it in front of her, a shield against the brief barrage of bullets fired her way. They ping off the Trooper with enough force to push Aera back a few steps, but her footing remains sure and she endures.

As soon as the sound of the bullets stop, Aera drops the Trooper and launches herself at the next one. Between the three of them, the remainder of the MTs are dispatched quickly. There’s no pause before they’re heading into the next section. 

They find themselves in a narrow path, diverging at the end. One path leads into one of the few covered areas of the structure, and from the other, Aera can hear the machinery of the Magitek patrols. Her only communication with Cor and Noctis is a brisk nod, and they part ways in silence. 

The room is dark when Aera enters, but she allows for only a moment to adjust to the shadows. Filing cabinets occupy one wall, a lonely desk sitting opposite. Though every step sends a plume of dust swirling up to her knees, the desk itself is immaculately clean and organized. A quick scan through its contents reveal little of import; notes about this particular building, where structural reinforcements may be needed. Moot point, considering the damage the Marshal and the Prince intend to lay on this place.

She moves onto the filing cabinets, frowning when she finds its contents lacking. Not a complete surprise, considering the base is still in the early stages of construction—yet disappointing, all the same. 

The next drawer is locked, and Aera can’t help the slight quirk of her lips. The kit she keeps in her pack is perhaps not the most sophisticated, but neither is this lock. No doubt the Imperials trusted too much in the security of their Magitek forces patrolling the building, as the simple locking mechanism—nothing more complicated than what one might find in a normal office building—is just enough to keep out the prying eyes of other Imperial officials.

And not, as Aria discovers when she quickly unlocks the drawer, someone like her.

The file she eases out of the drawer is small, but its contents telling. She procures a folded map of Lucis, numerous locations marked in silver ink. More bases, perhaps? The next few pages contain blueprints, likely plans for those bases.

All useful information, but perhaps not as interesting as the cramped script scrawled over a silver mark by the Vesperpool. Aera brings the page closer to her face, eyes narrowing as she deciphers the handwriting.

_ Infantry unstable in this location. Daemon energy too high. Unwise to start construction here. _

The Empire’s use of daemons in this war has been unfathomable to the people of Lucis, but of no surprise. Daemons go after humans with no discrimination, but seem to pay the Magitek infantry little attention; Aera’s assumed it’s simply because the Magitek soldiers are not living beings.

It thus makes little sense why the daemon energy of the Vesperpool would affect the Imperial forces at all.

Discarding the manila folders, Aera tucks the pages into her pack almost haphazardly. Another cursory search of the room reveals little else of importance, as does further perusal of the base’s other enclosed areas. 

By the time she regroups with the others, the base has succinctly been cleared of its Magitek patrols. Aera won’t admit out loud that she’s a little disappointed she’d found them too late to join in, though it seems to show on her face.

“You missed the party.” Gladio is the first to greet her, his lips curved into a smile that typically accompanies his victories. And indeed, rubble and motionless Magitek shells lay scattered around them, the crackle of their released Magitek energy already fading.

Her look is appraising as she glances to each of them, relieved to see that none of them have sustained anything a potion can’t fix. “That’s unfortunate. But I did have to be thorough.” Lifting the map from her pack, Aera holds it out for Noctis, who accepts with his brows furrowed. “A peculiar note about the Vesperpool. And more Imperial bases, most of which are still under construction.” Her expression is solemn, “they’re moving in on Lucian soil fast.”

“Well, they don’t have to worry about Kingsglaive interference, now.” Nyx’s caustic words cannot be masked even by his neutral expression, his grief resonating in the depths of Aera’s ribs as if it’s her own. Her hand nudges his, and when he glances at her, she returns the look with a minute, sympathetic smile. There’s a pause, a nearly imperceptible nod, before Nyx looks away.

If anyone else notices the terseness of Nyx’s voice, they say nothing about it. 

“That’s their mistake.” Noctis folds the map into a neat square, tucking it into his pocket. “I’m not going to object to  _ interfering _ with their bases.”

It’s a statement that elicits approval from Cor, who regards the prince and his friends with something akin to pride. “Seeing you in action puts my mind at ease. It’s clear I don’t have to worry anymore.”

A compliment from the Marshal is always hard-earned, and Aera doesn’t miss the minute way Noctis’ posture seems to straighten even as his expression remains nonchalant.

It had never occurred to her to worry after the prince; it had never been a part of her job. Yet, there should have been at least a few more years—perhaps a decade—before Noctis would have been expected to bear the crown. To have so much responsibility thrown at the young prince so abruptly, and in such circumstances—no wonder Cor was concerned.

“I’ll return to watching the Nifs; you know what you must do.” 

Noctis responds with a solemn nod, gaze drifting momentarily to Aera. She can guess his question without him asking, and replies only with a tight-lipped smile. Even if the prince isn’t privy to her orders, he’s known her long enough to know what her duties are. 

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” And if Noctis has any doubts about where their roads may lead, his royal upbringing veils them completely. Standing tall, he nods at his companions, who are quick to join him in their departure from the base.

As he passes, Gladio claps a heavy hand over Aera’s shoulder, a gesture of camaraderie that elicits a raised brow from Nyx.

“Take care, Aera.” He jogs to catch up to his friends, throwing his arm around Noctis with such force that the prince stumbles. Aera can hear his protests even as they disappear from view, corner of her lips lifting at the sound of Gladio’s bellowing laugh.

“What the prince must do, he cannot achieve on his own.” Aera looks up at the Marshal, brows furrowing when she recognizes the pointed look he’s giving her. “His burden is heavy, and the road ahead is dangerous. He is fortunate to have people with him who care not only for his success, but for also his well-being.”

It isn’t difficult to decipher the meaning beneath Cor’s words, and the look with which Aera responds simply says,  _ not now _ . She’s bracing for more, but the Marshal responds only with a twitch of his lips; the briefest smile.

“You should return to your companions before they think the worse.” A nod in the direction of where the sun sits, much lower to the horizon now, marks the end of their conversation. 

“I’ll see you around, Cor.” And though Aera imagines this won’t be their last farewell, the smile she gives him is shadowed by melancholy.

The nod she receives is brisk, but she can see in the way his jaw is clenched that her sentiment is reciprocated. And it occurs to her then why he’s been, in his own quiet way, so insistent that she enlists help from Nyx. 

He’s seen her in diapers, was invited to her childhood birthday parties; he’s walked her through the tribulations of high school, trained her when she was accepted into the Academy. And though he had not been in Insomnia during her parents’ funeral—an absence about which he’s still angry, in spite of his unrelenting duty to his king—he’d been there to see her through her grief.

Aera’s always considered Cor to be family—why shouldn’t Cor think the same of her?

She watches his retreating back until his lone silhouette disappears from view, and only remembers that Nyx is there with her when his fingers tap her on the elbow. Schooling her expression into something less forlorn, Aera motions down the road to where she’s parked the jeep.

“C’mon,” she says, ignoring the look of concern on the Glaive’s face. “We should try to make it to the next outpost before dark. Pretty sure Rangi and Lyra are going to pass out if I tell them we’ll stay here.”

Nyx replies with a quiet snort, and Aera doesn’t miss the way he’s sticking terribly close to her as they trek towards the vehicle.

* * *

As it turns out, neither Rangi nor Lyra would oppose to spending a night at the hunters’ outpost. They’re not alone on the patio seating when Aera and Nyx return, and Aera’s carefully neutral expression dissolves into an amused, lopsided smile as she catches sight of Lyra’s wide, excited eyes. Even Rangi looks entertained, and visibly relaxed in spite of the heavily armed man and woman who take up the seats opposite to them.

Rangi’s the only one who notices them as they enter the lot, alerting everyone else only when he waves. The hunters turn, and Aera recognizes their faces, though she’s unable to put names to them. Their gazes are curious as they track her and Nyx until they’ve reached the caravan, and Aera greets them with a polite nod.

“I hope these two aren’t keeping you guys from something important.” Her brows are raised, tactfully averting her gaze from Lyra, whose cheeks have rouged and is sinking just slightly into her seat.

The man shrugs, his smile easy and his posture lax. “Can’t miss out on a chance to regale them with our adventures, eh Terra?” His companion simply shakes her head, eyes rolling though a smile remains on her lips. 

“Nah, we were just hanging around for a while. Was gonna head west, but we heard the road was blocked by them Nifs.”

“It’s not blocked anymore.” She says it plainly, but the woman—Terra—appraises her with an impressed grin. In spite of their slow drawl and clipped manner of speaking, it’s clear that these hunters have a much clearer head on their shoulders than most others. Expected, considering the nature of their occupation.

“Well, give our thanks to whoever was responsible for that.” The man’s head dips as though tipping an imaginary hat at her, and Aera replies only with a cheeky smile of her own.

“Will do.”

“C’mon Glacio, ‘m sure these two are exhausted. We should give ‘em some time t’ rest, eh?” Terra nudges an elbow into her companion’s arm, already shifting to get out of her seat. 

They part with a polite nod, and Terra turns to throw a rather conspicuous wink at Lyra, whose cheeks manage to burn a little brighter. Chuckling, Nyx drops into the chair, nudging the plate of fries towards Aera.

“Look at Lyra, making friends so quickly.” Lips curving into a teasing smile, Nyx leans over to grab a fry, winking at the teenager as he does.

“I think we just looked a little lost, that’s all.” The nonchalance in her voice does little to hide her obvious enthusiasm.

“You’re not considering a hunting career, are you?” Leaning against the table’s surface on both elbows, Aera keeps her tone light and teasing. 

The very idea seems to startle Rangi, who looks over to the teenager with wide eyes and the expression of a father whose teenage daughter just announced she’s taking a year after graduating high school to travel. Except, of course, the panic appears tenfold on Rangi’s face.

Perhaps fortunate for Rangi, Lyra doesn’t look ready to announce a new career path any time soon. “Not really. But—I guess, how often do these stories get told, right?” Her voice is bright, the leash she’s tried to keep on her enthusiasm starting to unravel. Aera’s reminded briefly of the first time Lyra saw the ocean. “I guess it’s a pretty normal thing out here, but I feel like no one really knows  _ what _ happens on these hunts, except for the hunters themselves. It’s just….interesting.”

“Hunter journalism sounds like a pretty solid plan,” Nyx adds, and Aera catches a glimpse of his encouraging grin. “Telling the stories that wouldn’t otherwise get told—noble  _ and _ lucrative.” 

Lyra seems to ponder the idea and Rangi visibly relaxes, looking as though he might have aged another couple of years in the span of minutes. Lips curved into a catlike smile, Aera leans over the table to pat his shoulder in consolation. The look he returns is unimpressed, which only elicits a laugh.

“So, even though you guys seem to have made some friends here, I think we should continue on for as much as we can before dark.” Aera leans back in her chair, a fry dangling from her fingers. “We already lost a few hours because of the blockade.”

“I wouldn’t mind camping tonight.” Lyra shrugs, nibbling thoughtfully on a fry that was more ketchup than potato. How she manages to do so without making an absolute mess is beyond anyone’s guess.

“Chatting with those hunters got you feeling more adventurous, Lyra?” Nyx’s eyes crinkle at the corners, and his words pluck an exasperated sigh from Rangi. 

“Well, a campfire sounds really nice. And we have all the equipment, anyway.” She’s biting back a laugh as soon as she catches sight of Rangi’s look, cheeks puffed out when she turns to pat his back. “Rangi, I’m not going to become a hunter, okay?” Said in a voice as though she’s making a pinky promise, Lyra’s worrying her teeth into her bottom lip as she gauges Rangi’s reaction.

“Yeah, yeah, just go ahead and make fun of me for being a wary old man, alright?” He feigns annoyance, swatting Lyra’s hand away halfheartedly.

“What are you, thirty-four going on eighty-four?” The corner of Aera’s lip tugs into a smirk that might rival Nyx’s, and the two of them are practically snickering at Rangi’s resigned sigh. Even Lyra’s dissolved into a barely contained fit of giggles, and Rangi’s clearly trying quite hard to maintain his irritated expression.

“Fine, fine, camping it is. You all better help set up the tent.”

* * *

 

The sun is just setting as they arrive at the Haven, camping gear hauled over their shoulders and stomachs already growling. Their view of the sky is unobstructed, and no one seems opposed to pausing, even if just to admire the glow of the sun’s dying rays dancing off the waters of the Alstor Slough.

Rangi begins delegating the tasks as soon as they’ve set the equipment down, a precision in his words and voice that Aera’s not sure she’s heard before. She wonders, as she helps Nyx with the firewood, how often Rangi had camped, and with whom he’d done so. The sheer number of tent poles and pegs looks overwhelming even from where she stands, and Aera’s content to leave that part of their setup to Rangi and Lyra.

Nyx makes quick work with the firewood, parting with his armor and jacket (the new one, in sleek black leather, that Aera insisted on getting him from the outpost) and not breaking a sweat even after they’ve assembled a more than adequate pile of split logs. Aera glances over to check on his progress, blinking a little owlishly at the silhouette of his shoulders (perhaps a little more broad than Aera would have suspected, considering this leanness) and strain of the muscles of his back as he splits the logs. 

As though just realizing that she’s practically  _ staring _ , her gaze very quickly jumps to Lyra and Rangi. She doesn’t look at Nyx again until he’s settled in front of the fire pit, staring at the circle of rocks with a bewildered expression.

It takes Aera about two seconds to regain her composure and realize that the Glaive wouldn’t know how to start a proper campfire.

The rather petulant expression on his face tells her that she’s not doing a very good job of hiding her amusement. Lips pressed firmly together to contain a laugh, Aera joins him by the pit, firewood cradled in her arms. Her voice is patient as she demonstrates how to arrange the tinder and the kindling, and when she glances up from the firewood, Aera’s surprised to see his eyes are intent on her, the corners of his lips curved into a minute smile. It widens a smidge when she meets his gaze, but he doesn’t say anything when she arches a brow in question.

She stares at him for a moment longer before shaking her head, lighting the tinder with the barbecue lighter and fanning air into the small flame until it catches on the kindling around it. And even as she resumes her instructions, Aera’s finding it a little difficult not to think about the way he smiled at her—a true, genuine smile, soft and absent of bitterness—or the warmth that settles beneath her ribs.

Soon enough, the fire is the only light that accompanies the stars above them.

It’s no surprise that between Rangi and Lyra, the tent—spacious enough for a group double the size of theirs—is up so quickly, before the last of daylight has gone. Aera catches a glimpse of their sleeping bags already spread over the tent floor, and a little lamp hangs from the domed ceiling. They join her by the campfire, with Lyra stretched out on a log to her left and Rangi  across from her, rummaging through their food stores for ingredients.

It’s a modest meal of fire-seared hot dogs and left-over fries, eaten over the crackle of fire and a conversation that has Rangi doubled over in laughter. Nyx had taken the opportunity to regale them with his own adventurous tales; small adventures, accompanied by bittersweet nostalgia, with his friends.

“Let’s be honest, it takes a lot of skill to create a mess like that.” Eyes arched into crescents, cheeks dimpled with a bright smile, it’s perhaps the happiest any of them have seen Nyx. Actually, this seems to be the happiest any of them have seen of each other, period. 

“I’m not sure if ‘skill’ is the word I’d use,” Aera teases, canines digging into her bottom lip to tamp down the laughter. Yet, it’s so easy to picture the very situation which Nyx described; a pile of Glaives staring up at their friend, pieces of cake in their clothes and hair, streamers in tatters as they attempt to disentangle themselves. 

“Hey, it turned out to be a  _ great _ birthday party.” 

“Oh, I’m  _ sure _ .” She regards him with raised brows and a dubious expression, and Nyx simply chuckles, throwing the fry he had in his fingers at her. Aera ducks and it sails just over the top of her head, jaw dropped as though she’s not sure she believes that  _ actually  _ happened.

“Hey, no playing with your food, children.” And though he scolds them, Rangi’s voice is light, corners of his eyes crinkled with a grin brighter than any of them have seen on him. And even Lyra’s giggling, the sound muffled behind a hand as she watches them.

It’s the sort of camaraderie that mirrors what she’s shared with her colleagues, on those few occasions they gathered for anything remotely social. Stories and laughter, easygoing comfort and the simple warmth of  _ company _ . It’s bright and radiant; beautiful—and painful. And when Aera glances over at Nyx, the smallest shadow of nostalgia mars his otherwise jubilant laughter, and she knows it’s the same with him. It’s a shadow they all seem apt to keep at bay for the remainder of the night, until they’ve doused the fire and cleaned their plates.

Aera’s the only one who remains by the fire pit, urging the others to retire without her. She keeps her eyes to the stars, tracing the constellations in a sorry attempt to keep an handle on her thoughts. 

The silence stretches, until she hears someone stir from the tent.

The quiet rustle of fabric is the only thing that announces Nyx’s presence, and she doesn’t look at him when he settles into the spot beside her. He hands her a blanket but he remains silent, and Aera wonders if he’s considering what he wants to say.

“You want to ask me something.” Her voice is one part exhausted and two parts challenging, brows raising as though daring him. His doubts seem to have subsided since meeting up with Cor, dissipating completely since their infiltration of the Imperial base. Yet Aera knows that he continues to puzzle over her, glancing at her every so often throughout the rest of the day when he doesn’t think she’s looking.

“You really like maintaining that air of mystery, huh?” When she looks over at Nyx, his lips are curved into a smile, and his eyes look as though they’re searching for answers within the depths of her own.

Her hesitation wavers, her gaze dropping to her lap as she recalls Cor’s suggestion. It’s perhaps as close to a plea as the Marshal will ever come, and Aera now understands how it must pain him that he will not be able to see her through this.

Trust has never been in her nature, yet it still surprises her how difficult it is to speak of anything personal. For the past few years, her life revolved around secrets so closely guarded—revealing  _ anything _ seems to put her in a position of vulnerability.

And yet—things have changed, haven’t they? 

Relenting, Aera looks up at the Glaive. “Still trying to figure out who I am?” 

There’s a brief pause, hesitation as though Nyx worries about crossing a line. His nod is slow, uncertain, and perhaps just a bit apologetic.

“My parents are—were—Arcanus Primula and Sól Xihe. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”

His brows furrow as he looks to be recalling the names, but it doesn’t take long. Her parents had been two high ranking officials of the Lucian military, and sat amongst King Regis’ most esteemed council. All branches of the Lucian military knew that her parents’ contributions to the war effort and to Insomnia’s safety had been great—even if the nature of their operations remained classified. 

“You’re—oh.” The realization seems to change the way he looks at her, but Aera’s not expecting the look of recognition that flashes across his features. There’s a moment’s hesitation, Nyx only continues when her head cants in curiosity. His voice is quiet and somber. “I...was at your parents’ funeral.”

Aera remains silent, her expression arranged into something neutral, and Nyx continues. “It was one of my first assignments as a Glaive.”

Indeed, Aera recalls that a number of Glaives had been present, standing guard during the procession. But she doesn’t really remember much of that day; her memories lie low in a dark fog, the only thing recognizable being her grief.

“You...stayed behind for a long time.” His voice is just above a whisper, and for the first time since Aera’s met him, Nyx seems utterly unsure of himself. There’s sympathy in the lowered gaze he holds, a softness that eases Aera in spite of the tightening in her chest.

Grief had rendered her immobile then, left her feeling as though she’s been abandoned in some dark, empty place. She was eighteen—old enough to understand the danger of her parents’ professions. It’s occurred to her before that she may prematurely lose her parents.

And yet, how does one prepare for such a loss?

“You’re the Glaive who’d stayed behind with me.” Everyone else had left her to grieve on her own, except for one guard. Aera had been oblivious to his presence for a long time, until it grew dark and he’d finally approached, placing a hand on her shoulder. A small gesture, but it was warm where Aera felt nothing but a creeping cold. It was enough to pull her out of that dark place, enough that she had the courage to leave the spot where her parents had been laid to rest.

“Small world.”

“Yeah.” He’s looking at her a little differently now, gentle and soft, almost as if he wants to reach for her. A silence stretches for almost too long before his lips part again with a question, a means to change the subject. 

“So, you’re...Crownsguard?” Voice punctuated by uncertainty, his brows draw together, lips pressing into a thin line as he regards her. 

There’s a moment’s hesitation before Aera speaks—almost long enough that Nyx looks as though he’s ready to drop the question. But what could it hurt, now?

“Intelligence Division.” There’s no discernible pride in her voice, though Nyx clearly looks impressed. It’s perhaps the first time Aera has given her title to anyone, and frankly, she’s not quite sure how she’s supposed to sound with such a reveal.

“I always wondered—but I never knew for sure if we had something like that.” 

“That’s the point.” Her eyes drift back to the speckled lights above them. “The fewer people who knew, the fewer who could compromise our operations.” They were meant to give Lucis an edge over the Empire—but spies can’t change fate.

When Aera’s gaze returns to Nyx, the Glaive looks contemplative—and she’s surprised to not see the slightest inkling of doubt. She wonders briefly if meeting Cor could really have such an effect, or if Nyx was already coming to such a conclusion himself.

“Why tell me, then?”

Aera pauses, Cor’s insistence sitting heavy on her chest. It isn’t fair to ask it of Nyx, to travel such a dangerous road with someone he barely knows. Whatever the reason was that he was brought back, Aera can’t ask him to put his life at risk again—even if all of this may have more to do with him than she might guess.

He’ll make his own choice, she decides. When the time comes.

“There aren’t very many people who know...left.” Her voice is shadowed by melancholy as she thinks of the colleagues she’s likely lost. None of them have been too attached to each other—an unspoken rule, considering the dangers of their occupation—but the respect they’ve developed is true and strong. And they were good people, who did not hesitate to risk their lives for their country. “I don’t even know how many of us are still alive—if any.”

She feels a light nudge against her shoulder, and Nyx’s voice is soft. “If they’re as resourceful as you’ve been…”

_ Resourceful won’t keep you alive if a building collapses on you, _ Aera wants to say, the words and bitterness cumulating in her chest like a storm. “Maybe. Maybe they had the chance to leave before it got bad.”

“...Why didn’t you leave?” Nyx looks as though he regrets asking that moment the words leave him.

The curve of her lips is absinthal and mirthless, her gaze dropping from the stars to the landscape ahead. “Hearth and home,” she tells him, fingers closing tighter around the blanket. From the corners of her eyes, she can see his expression soften at the familiar words. “I knew that, if something did happen, it’s well beyond me to stop it. But I just...couldn’t leave. Leaving would have meant I couldn’t  _ do _ anything, or protect anyone. I couldn’t just abandon my home.”

Half-lidded eyes startle into faltering blinks when she feels a warmth against her arm. She doesn’t look over at Nyx when he shifts, fractions of an inch closer towards her, shoulder just lightly touching hers. She takes the gesture for what it is; condolence, and solidarity.

And perhaps she’s being self-indulgent when she leans into the touch, gaze dropping to her lap. Yet, how long has it been since anyone has offered their condolences so? And perhaps it may just be that Nyx is working through his own losses, that this quiet moment is of mutual benefit. But, it’s such a novel thing, one that Aera intends to make the most of while she can. 

They stay there until the weight over her eyelids become too much. When Aera starts nodding off, she does so to the sound of Nyx’s quiet chuckle, interrupted by his own stifled yawn.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a bit longer I think. I decided to combine two chapters to keep up the pacing...and figured people were a bit thirsty for some fluff and cuteness. 
> 
> Guess whose birthday party was the subject of Nyx's anecdote?


	6. 06

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyx pledges his loyalty, and the pair embark on a rescue mission.
> 
> And there's chocobos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone sticking with this fic despite the unannounced hiatus! Your support keeps me going and I'm happy there are people enjoying this fic :)
> 
> Admittedly, this chapter is not the most...cohesive? It's a *little* filler-y, but I also wanted to develop the characters and their relationships to each other (especially the relationship I know most of you care the most about). 
> 
> Also! I made a thing: https://youtu.be/rViPlqA7Uc4
> 
> Fun story about that...I started out making one video, which really got me back into the mindset to continue writing. And I liked it. But then I kept seeing all these amazing fanvids and picked up a couple of techniques and ended up making an entirely new video which was more plot-y and less spoiler-y. It was difficult, since the fic is post-Kingsglaive and obviously the only clips of Nyx are from the movie...but I think I made it work.
> 
> I used a real person, non-game FC because DAYUM is the animation beautiful in Kingsglaive. We didn't just cross the uncanny valley with that movie, we vaulted over the cliff and warped-striked to the other side.

It’s a routine that Aera doesn’t expect, and she’s almost worried with how familiar it’s becoming. Each night, they settle at a Haven or rent a caravan; and each night, even when sleep weighs over his eyes and slowing his movements, Nyx joins Aera outside. 

They don’t say much. Sometimes, Nyx might share a little piece of his old life; small anecdotes of the mundane, enough to elicit a small smile heavy with bitter nostalgia. He asks little after Aera, and she presumes it’s out of respect—because his curiosity is unbridled in the brightness of his eyes and the small curve of his lips. 

It’s a surprise, then, when he asks about Cor. Their eyes are to the stars, and Aera can feel the tension in her limbs dissolving with each breath of cool, night air. Nyx sits beside her, arms draped over his knees languidly, his breathing so soft and even that Aera has to glance at him to see if he’s fallen asleep.

As though catching her out of the corner of his eyes, he turns. The lazy smile over his lips dims slightly, and there’s a question in the way he looks at her. Aera arches a brow, inviting him to ask, and still, Nyx hesitates.

“C’mon Nyx,” she teases, “spit it out.”

There’s another beat, another silence that feels a little too long, before he finally speaks. “When we infiltrated that Nif base with the prince…” His eyes never leave hers, and Aera knows he’s gauging her reaction. “And the Marshal…”

_ Ah. _ Aera thought that Nyx might have forgotten that, though in retrospect, she really shouldn’t have. Not with the way his gaze had drifted so often to her, brows drawn together in worry. And it makes her wonder now, if he sits with her when she can’t sleep because he himself cannot find slumber, or if he’s—

No. Nyx is kind; he cares for people he doesn’t even know. Aera shouldn’t think it’s only because of her.

Her lips are curved into a smile, but it’s small, and perhaps a little sad. “He worries about me,” she admits. “He was good friends with my parents, and he’s been around since before I was even born.” Aera tells him as though recounting facts, but it feels like she’s giving him little pieces of her life, too.

There’s understanding in the stillness of his features, and something that looks like an apology. “Family’s not just blood.” The words sit heavy, shaped by a voice that sounds much more coarse than it had only moments ago.

“Yeah.” Her gaze falls to her lap.  _ Family _ isn’t something she thinks about often, even if she so fiercely considers Cor a part of it. Perhaps she’d taken it for granted, or perhaps it hurts too much to think about—as it does now.

Silence passes, heavy but pensive; a moment of mourning for them both. When Nyx speaks, his voice sounds clearer; determined. “Aera, you’re not staying in Lestallum with Lyra and Rangi, are you?” 

She turns to look at him, lips pressed into a thin line as she attempts to read his expression. For a moment, Aera’s struck by the intensity of his eyes, the brightness of their colour. “No, I’m not.” She answers simply, levelling her gaze; Aera knows how he’s going to respond, but she waits for him to speak, regardless. 

“I’m coming with you.”

The flutter in her stomach is hard to ignore—or perhaps it’s more like a twist in her gut. It’s silly, really—after all, Cor wanted Nyx to accompany her, even if she must keep him in the dark about the nature of her assignment.

But perhaps she still remains so reluctant to trust, for the idea of Nyx accompanying her makes her almost nervous. Or maybe it’s not nervousness at all, because Aera doesn’t recognize this humming beneath her skin.

Her head shakes. “It’ll be dangerous, Nyx.”

“Exactly why I’m coming with you.” His voice remains respectful, but firm. “You don’t have to tell me what you have to do. But I’m still coming with you.” Aera schools her expression into something rather unimpressed, Nyx flashes her a grin. “I  _ am _ more than just a pretty face, Aera. I can put two and two together.”

That fluttering intensifies, and Aera doesn’t know why she’s reminding herself that Nyx wants to see the Empire destroyed as much as she does.

And there’s something else; guilt. Aera hasn’t forgotten the newspaper clippings in Nyx’s apartment, or the photo he’d taken that was pinned alongside the damning headlines. “Nyx...I’m going to Galahd.”

His expression falters—so slightly, that Aera might not have noticed it in the dark shadows of these late hours. She  _ was _ expecting it, though, lips pressed into a thin line as her gaze drops to her lap.

She doesn’t expect his response. “All the more reason for me to go with you.” And though Nyx’s voice is little more than a coarse whisper, there’s no uncertainty. “It’s about time that I…”

Her heart drops, hurting for him. Insomnia wasn’t the first home he’s lost, and though the attack on Galahd had been nearly a decade ago, it’s clear that its scars still ache. Aera doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t turn to look at him as she reaches over, placing her hand over his. They remain that way for a long while, sitting in mournful silence until Nyx breaks it with a yawn.

* * *

 

They’re four days into their drive to Lestallum when Aera learns that Rangi has an amazing, natural affinity for chocobos.

And that Nyx very much does not.

They’re stopped for lunch, the sun bright but the air is cool. Their meal goes at a leisurely pace, and it’s obvious that the gorgeous weather is making it rather difficult to want to return to the jeep, even if they’re to drive with the top down. 

Aera’s barely finished her meal when she notices the constant, longing looks that Lyra is giving the chocobo kiosk. The teenager hasn’t made any mentions of the giant birds since the day they left Insomnia; after all, there’s no need to make a rental now that they’ve got a jeep to take them across the kingdom. 

Cor will probably scold her if he ever finds out—but surely, a couple of hours won’t hurt.

“I’ll be right back.” The others barely pay her any mind, languidly nibbling on their food as their conversation continues. Their attention only jumps to Aera when she’s got the whistle between her lips. The silence between the whistle and the flurry of fluffy, feathery movement is short enough that the three of them remain staring, wide-eyed at the birds even after Aera’s led them to the table.

“You guys look like you’ve never seen a chocobo before.” There’s laughter in her voice and a brightness in her eyes, several watts brighter still, when Lyra practically leaps out of her seat. Her approach is only a little more subdued than when she first caught a glimpse of the ocean, if only because she know enough not to startle an animal, domesticated and intelligent as it may be.

The chocobo is nuzzling its head into Lyra’s palm the moment she lifts her hand to pet it. If Aera’s looking closely enough, she might see tears in the girl’s eyes.

And it’s been so long, after all, since she’s really had the chance to simply make someone  _ smile _ . Her job is shrouded in shadows, her relationships kept strictly professional; Aera’s almost forgotten the simple pleasure of doing good for a  _ friend _ . It’s difficult to keep the grin off her own lips, realizing that.

It’s only when Aera separates the birds so they could mount that she notices the slightly bewildered look on Nyx’s face. She keeps a close eye on him even as she helps Lyra mount, bottom lip catching between her teeth when she sees his eyes widen as soon as his chocobo’s beak comes an inch too close to his face.

Meanwhile, Rangi’s already doing doughnuts around the outpost.

“You’ve definitely ridden a few of these in your time, haven’t you?” Her brows are raised when Rangi replies with an almost smug smile, head canting as he approaches her. 

His stop is near perfect; no faltering, no skidding, as though Rangi and the chocobo are indeed sharing the same mind. Aera can almost imagine Nyx’s petulant expression. 

“ _ Once _ , when I was fifteen.” It’s perhaps the closest Rangi’s been to gloating, and Aera lets him have his moment.

“Alright, Chocobo Whisperer. Why don’t you lead Lyra down that trail? Nyx and I will catch up.” 

Mention of the Glaive has Rangi peering at him over her shoulder, and he’s clamping down on a laugh as soon as his gaze lands on Nyx. “Good luck,” is all Rangi says before trotting over to Lyra.

And when Aera looks over to Nyx, she’s not sure what to expect—certainly not the Glaive slowly backing away from the bird. She leaves her chocobo where it stands, worried that bringing it over might only overwhelm Nyx. He doesn’t seem to notice her when she approaches, his eyes steadfastly remaining on the chocobo.

“You can’t ride it if you’re running away from it, Nyx.” Lips press tightly together to stifle the laugh, and she almost loses it when Nyx turns his supremely unimpressed expression on her. Aera never thought herself to kick someone when they’re down, so it must be the weather or something in the food. “Are you telling me the brave Kingsglaive who stared down daemons and MTs...is afraid of a big, fluffy chocobo?”

As the saying goes—if looks can kill.

“This one doesn’t like me.” It’s said plainly, in a painfully monotonous voice.

Her gaze drifts between Nyx and the chocobo. The bird only seems curious about the human and the human seems rather terrified of the bird. “We can trade, then.”

And so they do, with absolutely no improvement to Nyx’s ease with the animal—though, it seems, he’s loathe to admit that out loud. His movements are awfully stiff as he pets the bird, and Aera doesn’t miss the way he’s craning his neck in a poor attempt to put distance between his face and the chocobo’s.

Still, there’s only so much puppy-kicking Aera can stand to do, as tempted as she is. Aera takes only a brief moment to tamp her laughter, calling on all her acting ability as a trained spy to maintain a patient expression as if Nyx doesn’t look like he’s ready to bolt the other direction.

“Right, so face the chocobo’s side, and put your left foot through the stirrup.” Nyx’s movements are more robotic than an MT’s, and his spine is ramrod straight as he turns to face the bird. He barely has his toes through the stirrup when the chocobo takes a step forward, jostling him. Nyx nearly loses his balance, arms pinwheeling for a moment until he’s regained control. By this point, Aera’s biting down on her lips to stifle her laughter—almost hard enough to draw blood.

The look he gives her is downright petulant.

She smiles, simultaneously amused and sympathetic, and draws closer to lay a consoling hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, noble Glaive. Let’s try this again.” She has her hand around the reins this time, patiently keeping the bird still as Nyx attempts to mount again. 

He has the strength to pull himself up, but he struggles to maintain his balance, wobbling in the saddle until he’s leaning forward, hands gripping the saddle’s pommel so hard that Aera thinks his knuckles must be the colour of snow beneath his gloves. Several seconds pass before he has the courage to sit up.

Aera feels almost as if she’s teaching a baby how to take his first steps. A quick instructional and three false starts later, they’re finally on the trail. Lyra and Rangi are mere specks in the vast field by now, and in spite of Nyx’s insistence that she catches up with them— “I’ll be right behind you!”—Aera remains beside Nyx.

Their pace is slow, but the Glaive hasn’t fallen off yet, and Aera calls that progress. “So, you won’t be bested by a giant, fluffy bird, after all.” Lips curved into a teasing grin as she regards Nyx, his knotted brows and ever-tightening grip on the reins not at all lost to her. “It’s kind of endearing.”

At that, Nyx’s gaze flickers over to her, looking for a moment almost as bewildered as when the chocobos first arrived. “Endearing. Great.” He looks as though all the witty quips and cocky comebacks in the world won’t save him now. 

A laugh bubbles within Aera’s chest, and though it’s one that she can contain—she doesn’t. The sound of her laugh has Nyx staring at her, looking rather affronted. But it seems laughter is contagious, and even if it’s at his own expense, Nyx starts laughing as well. It’s a miracle the sound doesn’t spur his chocobo into a trot, and Aera sobers enough to lead them towards Rangi and Lyra.

The two of them share a look as Aera and Nyx approach, gaze drifting to Nyx momentarily before choosing not to tease him (or, not  _ yet _ , in any case). His posture is still uneasy and he doesn’t seem to want to go any faster than a slight trot, but Nyx (perhaps forcefully, now that he’s in the presence of Rangi’s infuriatingly confident strides) seems to be much more comfortable on the chocobo than he had been initially.

It’s an improvement, anyway, because his pace remains relatively slow. They meander around the fields for a while, with Nyx watching and judging impromptu races between the three of the (Rangi won, every single time) until they’ve almost worn themselves out. When they return to the outpost to dismount, the air is light with their laughter. 

Lyra is still building the courage to part with her bird when an alarmed voice tears her attention from the chocobo. Brows furrowed, Aera follows her gaze, lips pressed into a thin line as her eyes fall on the distressed stranger. Young—perhaps around Lyra’s age—in clothing that’s a little too big, a little too worn. In the starkness of the convenience store’s fluorescent lights, Aera can see the streaks of tears over gaunt cheeks.

She doesn’t say anything as she draws closer, and Aera doesn’t have to turn to know that Nyx has fallen into step beside her. Lyra and Rangi’s footsteps follow a few paces behind.

“Please, can’t you find anyone who can help?”

The girl has her hands pressed over the counter, knuckles white. There’s a strain in her posture, a tension in her muscles as though she’s fighting to contain her emotions. In stark contrast, the store proprietor looks defeated, wilted beneath the girl’s stare.

“I’m sorry—I can ask a hunter if one comes by, but—”

“My brother  _ can’t _ wait for someone to just come by!” There’s a stutter in her voice, a rising panic barely tamped by clenched fists and trembling shoulders.

Aera interferes before this could implode, her voice simultaneously soft and sharp. “What’s wrong?” 

The proprietor—and aged man with greyed hair and countless lines on his face—looks ready to cry with relief at the sight of her. In her Crownsguard fatigues and borrowed kukris sitting on her hips, Aera must look exactly like the sort of hunter the girl seeks.

“My brother—! He—” A shuddering breath, a strained attempt to calm her frayed nerves, the girl has her hands clenched so tightly that Aera worries she’ll draw blood. “He kept saying he was going to take up hunting. Dad’s really sick and we just don’t have the gil—” Her gaze drops, lips pressed firmly together as though embarrassed. 

Expression etched by a deep brown, Aera shifts her gaze to meet Nyx’s. For a moment, it looks almost as though he’s a million miles away, hands closed into fists at his sides. It takes him a long second before he seems to notice her, but understanding settles over his features almost the moment he looks at her. A small nod, barely perceived, and it’s all Aera needs.

“What hunt did you give him?” She’s careful to keep her voice neutral, without accusation.

The vendor shakes his head, exhaustion and exasperation lending shadows to his eyes and lines on his face. “I didn’t tell him anything. He didn’t look like a hunter and I wasn’t about to send a kid to his death.” His shoulders heave with a sigh. “Shoulda found someone to take him home instead…”

“We’ll find him.” Nyx’s voice is resolute, yet soft, reassuring, and directed more at the young girl than the store’s proprietor. “We just need to know where to look.”

A pause, the proprietor’s brows furrowing deeply before he grabs a map from one of the racks. He flattens the page over the counter, circling the areas with his finger. “The closest hunt is in the little clearing west of here. The easiest one is a little further, by the pond where that old farm used to be.” 

It takes Aera a few seconds the memorize the locations, before sharing another look with Nyx. His expression is grim, worried, and evidently, eager to get moving. Her gaze shifts to Lyra and Rangi, but she needn’t ask to know that they’re more than alright with this slight delay.

“We’ll check both locations.” Her eyes on the girl, whose shoulders still tremble even as she gives Aera her thanks. “We’ll find him.” Aera’s gaze flickers to Rangi, who simply nods before stepping towards the girl.

“C’mon, why don’t we get you a bite to eat while Aera and Nyx look for your brother?” His voice is soft and kind, lips curved into a gentle smile as he waits for the girl to respond.

She answers with a small nod and a sniffle, shoulders squaring in an attempt to tamp her distress. Lyra steps forward to take her hand, all smiles and reassurance as she leads the stranger to the diner, and Rangi pauses, crease between his brows as he looks over Aera and Nyx.

“I know I don’t  _ need _ to say it, but—be careful. It’ll be dark soon.” 

A steady warmth spreads through Aera’s rib cage at the obvious concern, and the smile she gives him is earnest in its reassurance. “We will.”

There’s a pause, but Rangi nods before turning to catch up to the two teenagers. As he disappears, Aera turns to the Glaive, brows raised at the minute curve of his lips; a bright light in stark contrast to the seriousness of his profile.

The road is still, shadows drawn long across the asphalt as she navigates the jeep to the first location. Nyx is awfully quiet, his brows furrowed as he watches the passing scenery and ever-encroaching darkness. 

Aera takes one, two, three seconds to decide to speak, and when she does, her voice is quiet—uncertain. “You alright?”

She glances at him out of the corner of her eyes, teeth worrying into her bottom lip at the faraway look on the Glaive’s face. It occurs to Aera how little she truly knows of Nyx; she knows he was of the Kingsglaive, that he’s a formidable foe whose skills might be equal to hers. 

She knows he rescued Lady Lunafreya, that he must have fought until the bitter end. She knows he’s lost people he loves, and that he still mourns for them. And there’s his kindness, unreserved and unguarded.

Yet, she knows nothing of his past, nothing of the ghosts that seem to cling so tightly to him.

There’s a smile on his lips—mournful. He’s quiet for a long moment, gaze dropping momentarily. Is he simply gathering his thoughts, or unwilling to speak of anything too personal? But he speaks before the silence draws for too long, voice quiet and heavy with reminiscence. “It just seemed a little familiar, that’s all. Her situation.”

Aera suspected as much, though she’s loathed to jump to conclusions too soon. As the jeep slows, she turns to Nyx, corners of her lips lifted into a sympathetic smile. She won’t pretend to know what it’s like, to have to worry when she’ll have her next meal, to bear the burdens of her parents on her own. 

Nyx returns the look, the smile sad and small. They fall silent as Aera pulls into the small lot, remain silent as they begin their trek into the darkened plains. Even with the stillness of the night, both have their weapons drawn, undoubtedly finding comfort in the daggers’ familiar weight.

They don’t see the first beast until they’re well enough away from the road; a Sabertusk, shoulders hunched and snout to the ground as though searching for prey. Aera’s gaze flickers to Nyx, whose own narrowed eyes remain on the beast for a moment longer before returning the look. It seems to be searching rather than chasing, which might suggest a more sophisticated prey than a common animal—like a boy.

Aera’s pace slows, carefully muting her steps. She can’t see the rest of the pack, but she needn’t look to know that there’s at least three of them. These creatures hunt in packs, and though they are not terribly dangerous foes on their own, it’s a fatal mistake to allow oneself to be surrounded. 

By some miracle, neither she nor Nyx manage to alert the closest Sabertusk as they edge around the pack. Aera spots four creatures, and she can only hope there aren’t any more. A quick glance at the Glaive, followed by an even quicker nod—and they’re off, each hurtling towards a different Sabertusk with their daggers ready.

The beasts are a little more resilient than Goblins, and just as quick. The dark amplifies their danger, and though Aera’s blade finds a home in the creature’s back, it shakes her off as though feeling nothing at all. Thick hide, sharp claws; their very appearance would ward off most rookie hunters. It’s almost deceptive, Aera muses, because Sabertusks are a lot easier to dispatch than many of the other creatures lurking in the darkness of Lucis.

And the fight is different from the ones in Insomnia’s underground; here, Aera dances around the creatures with ease, using her surroundings to confuse her prey before striking. Blink, and one might miss her; movements swift and deliberate, the dark of her clothing blending with the shadows of the impending night. 

She moves with utmost focus, blades spinning and footing so quick and light that even the Sabertusks’ nimble bodies have trouble keeping up. So, it’s not just the fight that manages to break that focus; it’s the sudden, violet spark that cuts a stark silhouette in the long shadows. 

Lightning. Its source: Nyx.

There’s a still moment, just long enough that one of the beasts can take advantage. His name leaves her lips in a panicked voice that Aera barely recognizes, but it’s enough to startle Nyx out of his own shock in time to react. One hand reaches out, still clutching the dagger, and a stream of crackling, amethystine light arcs through the air. It finds the Sabertusk with a loud sizzle, stopping the creature mid-leap.

Though Nyx looks to still be reeling from the sudden reappearance of magic, he’s apt to set it aside long enough to finish the battle. 

And it does finish, relatively quickly. When the last of the creatures fall, Nyx’s gaze finally drops to his hand, lips parted with a question he doesn’t know how to ask. Aera hesitates for a moment, trying to reconcile the magic with what she knew of the Kingsglaives’ powers. There might be more than one explanation, one that screams louder than the rest—but it’s not one she can reveal to Nyx.

“Are you...alright?” She draws closer, fingers just brushing over his wrist to bring his attention back to her. 

Nyx swallows thickly, looking up at Aera with the same perplexed expression. He’s proven that he’s capable of putting two and two together, and Aera can already see him trying to put the pieces together. Waking from a battle that should have taken his life, turned his body to ash; his miraculous and full recovery. Perhaps the only thing that would prevent him from finding the answer on his own is simply how impossible everything seems.

That answer tastes bitter on Aera’s tongue, but she tells him nothing. Is it because she doesn’t think she’s known him long enough to truly trust him, or her inability to break protocol even when protocol flew out the window the moment Insomnia’s wall came tumbling down? 

It doesn’t seem to matter, because whatever answer Nyx might have come to, he sets it aside in favour of the task at hand. “We...should keep moving.”

A little tentatively, Aera nods. “He won’t be far,” she murmurs, eying where the Sabertusks have broken through foliage in their hunt. “They knew they were on the right track.” Nyx simply nods, waiting for Aera to take the lead. 

They don’t encounter anything more than a few ominously rustling leaves and an eerie howl in the distance. But as before, neither seem to let their guards down, feeling perhaps even more attentive with the lack of activity.

It isn’t long until the monotonous scenery of trees and rocks is broken by a dilapidated cabin. Or, it might have once been a cabin. Now, it can hardly be defined as a ‘structure’ at all. The roof is entirely missing, and gaping holes reside where windows used to sit. Aera’s pace falters, brows furrowing as she listens; a cabin like this, broken as it may be, might be the only place a child has to hide from predators.

Her gaze flickers to Nyx, who again simply nods. They move in near-perfect unison, stances mirroring each other’s as they approach the opening that might have once been a door.

For the first time since leaving the outpost to find the boy, Aera breathes a sigh of relief. 

There’s a sharp gasp as they enter, the sound of brick and dirt shifting as the boy—only a few years older than his sister—scrambles up from where he huddles in one corner. Nyx is the first to respond, quickly sheathing his daggers and holding his hands out in an attempt to reassure the teenager.

“It’s alright, your sister asked us to find you.” His voice is soft, tense with caution but otherwise gentle. “Are you hurt?”

There’s a pause, a moment of uncertainty before the boy shakes his head. “Just some scrapes. You’re...hunters?”

“Something like that.” The corner of Nyx’s lips quirk, and he takes a step towards the kid. Even in the harsh shadows of the cabin’s broken angles, the boy looks visibly relieved—and exhausted. “We’re gonna get you out of here, alright?”

The boy nods, his shoulders broadening as though straightening his stance. There’s still something a little sheepish on his face; if he didn’t think this was a bad idea when he set out, it’s clear to him now. And though Aera can’t disagree that he was being reckless, she also can’t quite blame him; he wouldn’t be the first to be driven to his death out of desperation to help his family.

“Stick close to us, okay?” As he nears, Aera gives the boy a once-over. A few scrapes, as he said, but nothing that would require urgent and immediate attention. It’s a small miracle. “There’s quite a bit of distance to cover before we get to the car.” He levels his gaze with hers, a determined set to his jaw flushing out whatever sheepishness he felt. Good; reckless as he might have been, at least the boy knows what the priorities are.

As she had in Insomnia, Aera takes point while Nyx covers their flank. They move quickly, not pausing even when a few telltale rustles seem to draw too close. Aera knows she can take care of most of the creatures that might emerge from the shadows here, and is confident that Nyx can, as well. Doing so while trying to keep a frightened, exhausted teenager from being torn to shreds in the crossfire, however, is not as easy.

Something leaps in front of them, slender and behooved, frantic in its pace. The boy reacts with a sharp gasp, nearly backing into Nyx, but Aera urges them to keep moving. From its silhouette, it was only an Anak calf—but that it was separated from its herd is only a bad omen.

There’s a growl from behind some foliage behind them, far enough that Nyx doesn’t turn to look for its source. A flock of large birds startle from their roost as the group weaves through the trees, but they spot no other creature. It seems like a near eternity before they finally make it back to the road.

Aera leads them to the jeep, and gives her surroundings another cursory glance before sliding into the driver’s seat. 

“Would you look at that, we made it back in one piece.” Nyx’s chuckle breaks the tense silence, and Aera swears the boy is about to cry with relief.

“Thank you, both of you.” His voice is quiet, and in the rearview mirror, Aera can see that his gaze is dropped as guilt begins to dominate the adrenaline of their night run through the woods. 

“I’ll save the lecture for when we’re back at the outpost,” Aera replies, not unkindly. Out of the corner of her eyes, she catches Nyx’s gaze as she pulls out of the lot. She only turns to him briefly, brows raised. The Glaive says nothing, but Aera catches the tiniest quirk of his lips as she turns her eyes back to the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens!
> 
> Man, I've got so much lore-related plot stuff planned out, you're all in for a wild ride.  
> But of course, the slow burn tag isn't just for the romance, it's for the plot, too. It's more fun to reveal it piece by piece, right?


	7. 07

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some dancing along a very precarious line, and the group arrive in Lestallum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who read! Some minor delays because life is crazy right now, but story is still ongoing, so don't worry uwu

No words seem apt to describe the sheer relief on their faces as Lyra, Rangi, and the girl—Clara—watch Aera pull into the outpost with an unharmed Callum in the back seat. Rangi looks about a decade older, Aera can’t help but muse, and there’s a small but crooked smile on her face as she looks over to him. The man all but rolls his eyes, but his posture visibly loosens as Clara runs to her brother.

“You idiot! You stupid, stupid—you’re the worst, Callum!” And though her face is buried in her brother’s shoulder, Aera can tell that she’s in tears.

The smile on her lips soften as she watches them, a heaviness weighing momentarily on her shoulders as she thinks of Cor. Neither of them have been quite as reactive to learn that the other is alive (although Cor might argue that the hug she gave him upon finding him at Hammerhead is perhaps close enough), but the sentiment had been the same. It’s only fortunate that Clara and Callum do not face the same dangers as she and Cor.

“I’m sorry, Clara. I’m so sorry. I just—” The boy’s shoulders sag, and Aera knows it’s more than just the guilt of worrying his sister that elicits the gesture. Their father is ill, and perhaps Callum, being the older sibling, felt he’d failed in his duty to try and help him.

She places a hand on Nyx’s arm, nodding at the two siblings when his gaze drops to her. His head cants just slightly, expression curious, but he nods before approaching the two. Aera watches them for just another moment before disappearing into the store.

She emerges minutes later with a card in her hand, registered with enough gil for a couple week’s worth of groceries; her reward for successfully completing the hunt. The group is gathered around the patio seats in front of the caravan, and uniformly turn to look at her as she approaches. Aera keeps her expression languid, her posture loose as she holds the card out.

“Here,” is all she says. Callum glances at the card with wide eyes before looking up at her, lips parted in surprise.

“But I—”

“You need it more than I do.” Her voice is gentle, reassuring. “I know it probably won’t be enough to treat him; but it’s a start.” When the boy doesn’t accept the card, Aera all but pushes it into his hands. “There’s a farm just to the south of here; the woman who runs it goes by Siobhan. Her daughter’s a medic. I’m sure if you offer to help out with the farm, she won’t mind asking her daughter to help your father.”

The corner of her lips ticks upwards, “and she _loves_ talking about how much better her crops are, so if you sweet talk her enough, Siobhan will probably send you back with some of it just to prove how good they are.”

Another stretch of silence, and Callum’s mouth opens and closes as he struggles to find the words to say. He settles on a very quiet, but very emotional, “thank you.”

And when Aera glances at his sister, she looks close to tears yet again. “C’mon, let’s get you guys home.”

Rangi doesn’t hesitate long enough for Clara to even stand from her seat. “The roads are going to be dangerous at night, Aera.” He says it like he knows Aera is tired of hearing it, sounding so unlike the tentative stranger he had been not long ago. At this point, he’s almost comfortable enough around her to remind her that _someone_ in their group needs to worry. “Maybe they can stay with us until the morning.” Aera’s quiet for a moment before nodding; there’s no point in endangering these two, so shortly after rescuing one of them.

Clara shakes her head, “but there won’t be enough room in the caravan for all of us…”

Almost reflexively, Aera’s gaze flickers to Nyx. He seems to sense her eyes on him, turning to look at her with a single brow raised. “I’m fine with sleeping outside, or in the jeep.”

“I barely sleep anyway.” It’s a joke, but her words don’t seem to make the girl feel any better. “I’ll be fine out here.”

“No, it’s—we’ve already caused enough trouble.” As though remembering his own insistence to be the older sibling, Callum straightens. “We can sleep outside. You’ve...you’ve done enough for us already.”

Nyx practically waves him off. “Trust me, I’ve slept in worst places.” He doesn’t speak for Aera, but she’s fairly certain that he’s already assumed the same of her. The Glaive catches on rather quickly, she’ll give him that.

Another long moment of hesitation, but eventually, exhaustion wins, and the siblings nod.

With the matter settled, Rangi holds the caravan door open for them, and Lyra immediately links arms with Clara as though she might dispel whatever guilt the girl might feel. Aera watches them for a moment longer, nodding at Rangi as he bids her good night before disappearing into the trailer. Satisfied, Aera sinks into one of the patio chairs, attention now turning to Nyx.

“You’ve got a little something here.” Her lips are curved into a languid smirk as she taps a finger on her own cheek, mirroring where a thin red line cuts across Nyx’s cheekbone. He blinks, as though startled out of his thoughts, and presses his own fingers to the cut.

“It’s not that bad,” is his instinctive reply.

“Probably not, but it’s still bleeding. It’s probably a bit late for it, but I’d like to at least try and disinfect it. Just in case.” Because who knows what else that Sabertusk had its claws in prior to clashing with them in battle?

Aera stands before Nyx can decline, grabbing the small first aid kit form the glovebox of the jeep. She ignores the faintly amused look on Nyx’s face as she settles atop the table in front of him, tearing into an alcohol wipe.

There’s a sharp intake of breath the moment the wipe touches the cut, and the neutral look on Aera’s face breaks into a smirk.

“I wasn’t expecting you to do that so suddenly,” Nyx says in his own defence, frown deepening as Aera’s smirk widens.

“You _can_ admit that it stung, Nyx.” Chuckling, Aera continues to clean the wound in spite of the near-pout on the Glaive’s face. “Men and their fragile egos.”

“It’s not my ego—I’m only balking at seeming weak in front of a pretty lady.” Her hand freezes for a moment, so quick that perhaps (she hopes) Nyx hadn’t noticed.

Aera chooses not to mention that given his reaction to the chocobos earlier, it might be a little late to salvage his dignity now. “Oh, how my heart flutters at your sweet words, brave knight,” she deadpans, just _barely_ managing a straight face. Aera pointedly ignores Nyx as she discards the wipe and grabs an ointment from the kit.

Somehow, her vaguely unimpressed response only broadens the grin on Nyx’s face. “Well, I do try, _my lady._ ”

He chuckles, and for a moment, Aera is aware of how close she sits to him, how he’s angled his body towards her, how his hand rests on the table, so close to her hip. It takes her a split second to decide on a response. Though her personal relationships have always rather been lacking, Aera is not so sheltered that she’s blind to flirting.

Her lashes flutter at him theatrically, leaning a little closer—just enough to draw surprise from the confident Glaive. “Not hard enough, I’m afraid.” Her voice drops, tone almost seductive. The curve of her lips is almost wicked, widening when she elicits the exact response she was hoping for. Nyx seems almost startled, surprised at the reciprocation. It lasts for a long moment before he realizes that she’s issued a challenge.

“Well played,” he murmurs, the owlish look on his face shifting into a lazy smile. Aera tries not to think too much about the way his gaze seems to linger on her—on her lips. “You must leave a lot of hearts broken, huh?”

The smirk remains, though Aera puts a little more distance between them, resuming with her task. “Broken hearts? Ah, there may have been some.” Not hers, though; never hers. Attachment is not only a taboo in her occupation; it could compromise her life—and that of others.

So when Aera presses the bandaid to his cheek and slides off the table, it marks the end of _that_ train of thought. Even so, she can feel Nyx’s eyes on her as she packs up the first aid kit, the weight of his gaze contemplative more than demanding. And when she turns slightly to look at him with a raised brow, she’s unsurprised to see the warmth in his eyes, that lazy smile looking more amused than anything.

Assured that neither of them have crossed a line, Aera continues with shoving the first aid kit back into the glove box, while Nyx disappears into the caravan to find blankets. And though Aera’s fairly certain she managed to climb atop the caravan in utmost silence, the Glaive doesn’t even need to look for her to know where she is.

He hands a blanket to her silently before settling onto the spot beside her. Her head cants, “you can sleep in the jeep, y’know.”

“You’re probably better suited for the jeep than I am. Given your height.” The grin he flashes her is crooked and good natured, and Aera responds with her jaw open in theatrical offence.

“That’s rather rude, coming from the _brave knight_ who was calling me pretty only minutes ago.” It occurs to Aera that perhaps it might not be a good idea to bring up the flirtatious comment after she’s rather firmly signaled an end to it—but she finds herself so at ease with Nyx that it hardly matters. Not that his combat skill isn’t enough of an indication, but everything she’s learned from his behaviour assures Aera that the Glaive knows well enough where their duties lie.

And more than that, Aera’s certain he’s more than adept at dancing around this precarious edge on which they stand.

“You can be pretty _and_ short,” he retorts, laughing when Aera gives his shoulder a playful shove.

“And you’re pretty, tall, and _rude_.” But there’s laughter in her voice, a contagious brightness that manifests as a brilliant smile on Nyx’s face.

“Hey, I’ll take it.” Another soft chuckle, before his attention turns to the darkened skies. Aera follows, her eyes again tracing the familiar constellations as she lets her mind settle into the quiet of her thoughts.

She hears something like a sigh, so quiet that it might have been little more than the wind. But when she glances at Nyx from the corner of her eyes, she finds him looking as though he’s retreated into himself. Her expression falters, teeth worrying into her bottom lip. Aera knows that Nyx’s thoughts must have turned to the siblings, or perhaps the return of his magic, without the levity of her banter to distract him.

Another moment of stillness, before Aera shifts a little closer to him. She mirrors his earlier gesture, arm pressed just lightly against his. It seems to be enough to release some of the tension coiled around his body, though the crease between his brows tells Aera that he remains troubled.

Several, long seconds of silence passes before Nyx takes Aera up on her unspoken offer. “My mind feels like such a mess right now.” It’s a quiet, solemn admission, one that has Aera closing her hand over his. Nyx takes another moment to try and sort out those thoughts, but the small heave of his shoulders would suggest that it’s no easy task.

“Deal with the first thing on your mind, then,” Aera tells him, her voice gentle as she interlaces her fingers with his. It’s almost unbearably, uncharacteristically intimate; but so reflexive that Aera tosses caution to the wind. She can maintain that rule of _no attachments_ , and still be there for a comrade in battle, can’t she?

Nyx gives her hand a light squeeze, a silent _thank you_ for sitting through this with him. “My father passed away when I was young. A work accident.” And though every word is heavy with old wounds and phantom aches, his voice remains steady. “Mom was—she worked really hard, made just enough to make sure my sister and I were comfortable. But it was...difficult.”

The last word leaves his lips as barely more than a whisper. “I wanted to take care of my family. Started working as soon as I was old enough, made sure Selena had enough to buy her school books and new clothes.” A pause, “even considered taking up hunting—I probably would have tried, if Selena didn’t talk me out of it.” A bitter chuckle, head shaking at the evening’s theatrical irony.

“It was good, for a while. I didn’t mind working that much, if it meant my mom didn’t have to. I thought I really was able to take care of them.” His breath catches in his throat, the hand not holding Aera’s closing into a tight fist. His gaze drops, and though Aera can’t see his face, she can only imagine the pain in his expression.

Aera can only surmise one reason why Nyx had been living alone in that tiny apartment, without the family he clearly loves.

Her chest tightens, echoing a grief that had nearly destroyed her six years ago. And as difficult as losing both her parents had been, at least Aera wasn’t left feeling as though she’d failed them.

When Aera leans into him, resting her cheek on his shoulder, Nyx reacts with a shuddering breath. It might have been the gesture that broke the dam, because he stays silent for a long time, head still bowed. And Aera stays where she is, her presence a wall on which he could lean; an anchor.

When Nyx finally speaks again, his voice is coarse. “Thanks.” Aera replies only with a light squeeze of his hand. “So, the second thing.” His words are followed by a faint chuckle, one that sounds like an empty attempt to put his grief behind him. “I guess I can use magic again.”

“Because of Noctis, maybe?” Aera doesn’t lift her head from Nyx’s shoulder, and their fingers remain entwined. There’s a part of her that’s berating, almost panicked; this is too _close_. But Aera can’t convince herself to take this kindness away, because though Nyx had verbally moved on from thoughts of his lost family, he feels only a breath away from shattering again. “He’s...technically the king now.”

The idea of the young prince inadvertently sharing his powers with the last surviving Glaive of Insomnia seems rather unlikely. And yet, there aren’t many other options to offer—outside of the explanation that Aera guards. Even then, she’s not certain if _her_ explanation is the truth, either.

Nyx lifts his hand, the one not clasped in Aera’s. If he’s concerned about the intimacy of her gesture, he doesn’t show it. And in spite of that part of Aera that’s always guarded, the part of her that remembers every loss, every potential loss—this just feels so natural.

“It was easy to forget that the magic wasn’t really a part of me.” Violet sparks dance along his palm as Nyx tests his ability, his control. He seems unconcerned with wielding a literal force of nature, so nonplussed with the ethereal light, that Aera almost forgets that magic wasn’t entirely a part of him, either. “When the king was killed, and I couldn’t use magic anymore—I felt useless. Like I was nothing.”

Aera lifts her head, shifting slightly so that she’s facing him. “You know how the Crownsguard can summon weapons?” Nyx nods. Unlike the Glaives’ affinity for magic, the summoning is skill given to the Crownsguard by their sovereign, following a harrowing vigil mean to test their loyalty and resolve. “I don’t think I’ve ever used it in the past four years.”

There’s a look of surprise on Nyx’s face, quickly dissipating when he seems to remember how Aera keeps her daggers sheathed and holstered at her hip. His lips are parted, a question sitting on his tongue; but he doesn’t ask, trusting Aera to tell him.

“It’s a big honour, and all that.” There’s a wry twist to her lips, a sign that the ability itself means little to her. “But doing a lot of covert work, we can’t afford showing off our flashy abilities like that.” And while her colleagues might prefer to keep a blade or two on reserve, Aera doesn’t bother. “I’m not even sure if I remember how to do it, nor do I care to.” She gives Nyx a light nudge, “it doesn’t define me. And you being able to use magic doesn’t define you.”

A brief silence, a slow curve appearing on Nyx’s lips. “That was really cheesy.”

The glare Aera gives him lacks bite, and the smile on his face widens a little. “Got you to smile, didn’t I?”

He chuckles, and again, Aera finds herself trying to ignore that little flutter beneath her ribs. “You did.” Aera doesn’t expect the tenderness in his expression when he looks at her, or the warmth in his gaze and the electricity over her skin as he brushes a thumb over her knuckles. “Thank you.”

* * *

 

A certain bittersweetness hangs in air as they approach Lestallum, accompanied by the stagnant heat radiating from the Disc. Aera hadn’t told Lyra and Rangi that she won’t be staying with them, that reaching Lestallum would mark the start of a much more dangerous journey. She’s confident that Nyx hadn’t, either; he has enough tact and respect to understand that it’s not his place.

And yet, it seems they could have guessed, anyway.

Despite Rangi’s obvious attempts to squeeze in as much small talk as he can, conversation seems stilted, awkward. And Lyra doesn’t say much at all, her smiles confined to small quirks of her lips and her replies limited to single-word answers.

The drive is a difficult one, guilt twisting in the pit of Aera’s stomach. Rangi and Lyra would be safe in Lestallum, and their safety had been Aera’s priority from the start. Friendship had never crossed her mind, then; they began only as civilians Aera vowed to protect. Just as Nyx began only as an ally in the war against Niflheim.

Things have clearly shifted, and Aera’s not certain it’s for the best.

It’s late when they finally pull into Lestallum, the skies alight with a setting sun. It feels like an ironic backdrop for the beginning of their goodbyes, that sentiment echoed by the heavy silence that settles over them as they retrieve their bags from the trunk. Rangi disappears to make a call, leaving Lyra absently picking at a loose thread on the backpack she carries.

Aera watches the girl with a heavy heart, but remains reluctant to approach her until she feels a nudge against her hand. She doesn’t need to look up to know who it is, but she does anyway, meeting Nyx’s eyes with a small, sad smile. His gaze flickers to Lyra, then back to Aera.

His fingers curl just slightly around hers, and Aera only sighs before nodding, hand slipping out of his as she moves towards Lyra. The girl looks up at her, just barely managing a rather unconvincing smile.

“Hey.” Leaning against the hood of the jeep, Aera tries to return the smile.

There’s a moment’s hesitation, long enough that it begins to worry Aera, before Lyra speaks. “You’re not staying with us.” Said so softly, as though she will never see Aera again. All things considered, she might not.

A soft sigh escapes Aera, gaze dropping. “No, I’m not.”

“Nyx isn’t staying, either.”

“No, he’s...coming with me.”

Lyra nods, again trying to force her lips into a smile. “That’s good. At least you won’t be alone. You’ll look out for each other.”

A heaviness settles over them, echoing the unspoken words when Aera parted ways with Cor. “Lyra…”

The girl shakes her head, laying her hand over Aera’s as though to reassure her. Aera wants to laugh at the irony of that, of a teenage girl trying to reassure the seasoned spy. And yet, hadn’t Lyra always come across as wiser than her age? Hadn’t the girl suffered enough losses, endured enough heartache to last multiple lifetimes?

“My big sister always wanted to be in the Crownsguard, you know?” Her voice sounds coarse, but Lyra continues as though her voice doesn’t crackle with too many emotions. “She was so protective, beating up every bully to have ever crossed her path.” She laughs, the sound broken by loss. “We were a week away from finding out if she was accepted into the Academy.”

“I’m sorry.” It feels inadequate. Lyra had already lost her family in the worst possible way, and though she hasn’t known Aera for that long, it’s clear what she’s become to the girl. And now, it seems as though Lyra will lose her, too.

“It’s okay. I just...I guess I know a little bit about what it means to be in the Crownsguard.” There are no tears in Lyra’s eyes when she looks up at Aera, and once again, she’s struck with how strong the girl can be. “Thank you, Aera. For helping Rangi and I...and for everything. Including the chocobos.”

The laugh that leaves Aera is quiet, sombre. And when she pulls Lyra into a hug, it’s easy to ignore the part of her that’s reminding her; _this is why you don’t get attached._

When they part, Rangi’s returned with two others—his friends, no doubt—their bodies pointedly turned away from Lyra and Aera to afford them some privacy. Arranging her lips into a smile, Aera grabs the backpack, laying a hand on Lyra’s shoulder. “C’mon.”

The group turns as they approach, and Rangi holds out a hand to take the bag from Aera. His eyes flicker between them, returning to Aera with a look of reluctant understanding. “This is Aoife and Nubis.” He motions towards the strangers, who give Aera a small wave and curious glances. “I...uh.” A hand reaches for the back of his neck, a sheepish gesture that elicits a small chuckle from Aera.

“I guess Nyx already told you we won’t be staying.” And in spite of the small smile that still lingers on her lips, Aera’s expression is melancholic.

Rangi nods, glancing again at Lyra before speaking. “Yeah, he did.” A quiet moment passes as Rangi searches for the words to say. He settles on telling Aera, “stay safe, okay? Don’t make an old man worry.”

And she can’t help but laugh at that. “You’re not that old, Rangi.”

“You definitely make me _feel_ old,” he retorts, the laughter that leaves him sounding a little hoarse. “You guys take care of each other, alright?” He turns to Nyx, brows rising as he addresses the Glaive, “and _you_ ,” Nyx’s brows jump to his hairline, “you make sure she eats decent food every once in awhile, yeah?” For a brief moment, Rangi’s attention returns to Aera, “don’t think I haven’t caught you nibbling on those chocolate bars.”

They’re all laughing now, voices weighed by the lingering goodbyes. “I’ll make sure she gets her veggies in, Rangi,” Nyx replies, clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Good.” He looks as though there’s more he wants to say, but seems to decide against it. Turning to Nyx, Rangi holds out a hand, and Nyx hesitates for a brief moment before shaking it. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

When Rangi turns to Aera again, he look almost as though he’s ready to pull her into a hug. But he doesn’t, and Aera’s relieved. She’s not certain he’d let go, if he did hug her; they needn’t make this more difficult than it is.

Lyra places a hand on Rangi’s arm, giving him a small, encouraging smile when he looks down at her. He nods, expression solemn, before looking at Nyx and Aera one last time. He salutes them, a small gesture that speaks volumes of what he understands; they’re soldiers, in a war.

Aera watches as the group departs, keeping an eye on them until they’ve disappeared into another street. Her shoulders heave with a sigh, and she feels reassured only when Nyx nudges her hand. He doesn’t say anything, waiting for her to break the silence.

“It’s, um, a bit late to keep going now.” She nods to the outlook at the edge of Lestallum, where the sun sits low on the horizon. “We can get a room for tonight, and head out tomorrow morning.”

Nyx watches her for a moment, brows drawn together.

“I’m fine, Nyx.” He doesn’t look like he believes her, so Aera gives him a rather pointed look. “Really. I just...didn’t expect it to be so hard on them.”

“Goodbyes are never easy.”

Aera replies with a soft snort. “They are when you’re a spy for the crown.” Her gaze drifts to where Rangi and Lyra had disappeared, expression softening. “I’m glad we got them out. I’m glad we managed to keep them safe.”

The smile on Nyx’s face is small and bittersweet, and he nods. “Yeah.”

She can guess the thoughts flickering through his mind, and reaches out to give his hand a squeeze before nodding to the city. “Come on, the Leville is that way. It’ll be nice to sleep in a real bed for once.”

Nyx chuckles, and there isn’t even a moment’s hesitation before following her.


End file.
